IS- GASTON -LEARY 


Division  X)SlO? 

Section  *3  *  Lf  38 


i 


THE  REAL 
PALESTINE 
OF  TO-DAY 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/realpalestineoftOOIear 


Looking  eastward  over  Jerusalem  to  the  Russian  view-tower  on  the  Mount  of  Olives 


COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY 
McBRIDE,  NAST  &  COMPANY 


First  Edition 
Published  October,  1911 


TO  THE  GIRL  I  LEFT  BEHIND  ME, 
WHOSE  LOYAL  AFFECTION  NEVER 
WAVERED  DURING  ALL  THE  WAN¬ 
DER  YEARS 


PREFACE 


IN  writing  this  little  book,  I  have  tried  to  do  just 
one  thing — to  draw  in  rapid  outline  a  picture 
of  Palestine,  as  it  appears  to  those  who  look  long 
enough  to  appreciate  something  of  the  true  values 
of  a  land  which  differs  in  so  many  respects  from 
our  own  that  a  mere  hurried  glance  is  apt  to 
see  only  those  things  which  are  strange  and 
incongruous. 

I  have,  therefore,  kept  out-of-doors  as  much  as 
possible ;  for  the  most  solemn  and  lasting  memory 
of  the  Holy  Land  is  not  the  incoherent  jumble  of 
doubtful  shrines,  but  the  beauty  of  the  everlasting 

hills. 

And  because,  in  painting  a  landscape,  each  detail 
must  have  some  definite  position  and  coloring,  it 
has  seemed  better  not  to  go  into  the  discussion  of 
conflicting  opinions,  but,  in  every  instance,  without 
qualification  or  defense,  to  fit  some  one  conclusion 
into  its  proper  place  in  the  picture.  Ordinarily 
this  has  been  the  most  commonly  accepted  belief. 
In  a  few  cases  I  personally  hold  to  a  different 
opinion  from  that  which  is  here  quoted ;  but  to 
have  justified  my  own  position  would  have  neces¬ 
sitated  close  argument  and  cumbersome  footnotes, 


PREFACE 


and  would  have  added  nothing  to  the  clearness  or 
essential  truthfulness  of  the  picture. 

Like  the  old  Hebrew  prophets  and  poets,  I  have 
not  hesitated  to  go  beyond  the  strict  limits  of  the 
Land  of  Israel,  whenever  I  could  draw  a  better  illus¬ 
tration  for  my  theme  from  the  land  of  Hermon 
and  Lebanon. 

The  plans  and  outline  maps  were  all  made  espe¬ 
cially  for  this  work,  and  it  is  hoped  that  they  will  aid 
to  a  clearer  understanding  of  the  text. 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  add  that  the  last  chapter 
was  the  first  in  point  of  composition,  and  was 
really  written  under  the  circumstances  there 
described. 

Six  of  the  chapters  were  recently  published  in 
serial  form  in  Travel.  Acknowledgments  are  also 
due  to  The  World  To-day ,  Scribner's  Magazine , 
The  Christian  Endeavor  World ,  Forward ,  and  The 
Christian  Herald  for  permission  to  include  material 
which  first  appeared  in  these  periodicals. 

Lewis  Gaston  Leary 


Pelham  Manor,  N.  Y.,  October  1,  1911. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  TINY  PALESTINE  .  1 

II.  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  ROAD .  16 

III.  RACES  AND  RELIGIONS .  30 

IV.  THE  OLDEST  CHURCH  IN  THE  WORLD.  .  39 

V.  THE  MYSTERY  OF  MACHPELAH .  51 

VI.  THE  DOME  OF  THE  ROCK .  65 

VII.  THE  WALL  OF  TEARS .  74 

VIII.  THE  HEART  OF  CHRISTENDOM  .  79 

IX.  THE  HOLY  FIRE .  91 

X.  VALLEYS  AND  TOMBS  .  100 

XI.  THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES .  115 

XII.  THE  RIVER  THAT  GOES  DOWN .  122 

XIII.  THE  SEA  OF  DEATH .  132 

XIV.  THE  BACKBONE  OF  PALESTINE .  142 

XV.  THE  WAR-PATH  OF  THE  EMPIRES .  157 

XVI.  GREETINGS  BY  THE  WAY .  166 

XVII.  THE  RING  OF  THE  GENTILES .  173 

XVIII.  THE  LAKE  OF  GOd’s  DELIGHT  .  .  .  ....  184 

XIX.  THE  GLORY  OF  ALL  LANDS .  188 

CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE  .  204 

THE  BEST  BOOKS  ON  PALESTINE .  205 

INDEX  .  207 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Jerusalem  and  the  Mount  of  Olives . Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

A  Turkish  Local  Passport  .  xiv 

The  Plain  of  Dothan .  1 

J AFFA  FROM  THE  SeA  . 4 

The  Jaffa  Gate  .  5 

Lepers  of  Jerusalem  .  16 

The  Southern  End  of  Jerusalem  .  IT 

Solomon’s  Pools  .  24 

An  Ancient  Well  of  Beer-sheba .  25 

Kadesh-barnea  .  28 

Mount  Sinai  .  29 

A  Bedouin  Tent .  36 

A  Bethlehem  Family  .  37 

Bethlehem  .  48 

Choir  of  the  Church  of  the  Nativity .  49 

Hebron  .  54 

Stairway  Leading  to  the  Hebron  Ilaram  .  55 

Interior  of  the  Mosque  of  Machpelah  .  62 

Moslems  of  Palestine  .  63 

The  Mosque  of  Omar  .  66 

The  Koran .  67 

Interior  of  the  Mosque  of  Omar .  72 

The  Sacred  Rock .  73 

Jews  of  Jerusalem .  76 

The  Wailing  Place  .  77 

The  Church  of  the  LIoly  Sepulchre  .  82 

Roof  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  .  83 

The  Chapel  of  the  Sepulchre  .  98 

Crowds  Going  to  the  Holy  Fire  .  99 

(xi) 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


•  * 

XU 

FACING  PAGE 

Gordon’s  Calvary  .  102 

The  Valley  of  Kidron  .  103 

The  Pools  of  Siloam  .  110 

The  Tomb  of  Absalom .  Ill 

The  Mount  of  Olives .  118 

Jerusalem  from  the  Mount  of  Olives  .  119 

Source  of  the  Jordan  at  Tell  el-Kadi  .  126 

The  Marshes  of  the  Htileh,  .  127 

Valley  of  the  Jordan  near  Jericho  .  130 

The  Jordan  River  . . .  131 

Inhabitants  of  Modern  Jericho  .  136 

Russian  Pilgrims  at  the  Jordan  .  137 

The  Dead  Sea .  140 

The  Wilderness  of  Judea .  141 

Shechem  and  Mount  Ebal  . 146 

The  Samaritan  High  Priest . 147 

Jacob’s  Well  .  150 

The  Hill  of  Samaria  .  151 

The  Kishon  River .  158 

The  Plain  of  Esdraelon .  159 

The  Village  of  Nain  .  166 

Syrian  Villagers  .  167 

Nazareth  .  174 

The  Spring  of  the  Lady  Mary .  175 

A  Street  in  Cana .  178 

The  Horns  of  Hattin  .  179 

Fisherman  by  the  Sea  of  Galilee .  184 

The  City  of  Tiberias .  185 

The  Bay  of  Acre  . 188 

View  from  the  Horns  of  Hattin  .  189 

Olives  and  Wheat .  194 

Wild  Flowers  in  an  Orchard .  195 

A  Rose  Garden  .  198 

A  Cedar  of  Lebanon  .  199 


LIST  OF  MAPS  AND  PLANS 


PAGE 

Jerusalem  and  New  York  City  .  2 

Palestine  and  New  Jersey .  4 

The  Road  from  Jerusalem  to  Hebron  .  25 

The  Hebron  Haram  .  60 

The  Environs  of  Jerusalem .  103 

The  Jordan  Valley  .  123 

Cross-section  of  Southern  Palestine  .  136 

Palestine  .  203 


(xiii) 


•  <  «  -  • 


4  ,  •  » 


.  .  . 


The  Tezkereh.,  or  Turkish  local  passport,  which  the  author  used 

in  Palestine 


The  Real  Palestine  of  To-day 


i 

Tiny  Palestine 

NO  matter  how  much  you  may  read  about  Pales¬ 
tine,  you  will  never  quite  realize  how  small  it  is, 
until  some  day  you  stand  on  the  summit  of  one 
of  its  hundred  mountains  and  see  spread  out  before 
you  in  a  single  panorama  practically  all  of  the  fam¬ 
ous  land  which  is  “Holy”  to  Jew  and  Christian  and 
Moslem.  But  before  we  climb  the  mountains,  let  us 
go  to  the  roof  of  one  of  the  hotels  by  the  Jaffa  Gate 
and  look  down  on  Jerusalem.  You  can  recognize 
comparatively  minute  details  of  architecture  in  the 
farthest  comer  of  the  city,  for  the  distance  from  the 
Jaffa  Gate  at  the  west  to  the  Mosque  of  Omar  at  the 
east  is  only  half  a  mile.  The  entire  length  of  the  city, 
from  the  Damascus  Gate  at  the  north  to  the  Zion 
Gate  at  the  south,  is  barely  two-thirds  of  a  mile,  and, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  streets  are  narrow,  wind¬ 
ing  and  crowded,  you  can  walk  from  one  end  of 
Jerusalem  to  the  other  in  eight  or  ten  minutes. 

Of  late  years  the  city  has  been  spreading  outside 
of  the  gates,  especially  to  the  northwest,  where  there 
are  numerous  colonies  of  American  and  European 

[  l  1 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


Jews,  besides  buildings  belonging  to  various  Catholic 
and  Protestant  missionary  establishments ;  but  the 
total  population  of  Jerusalem  is  probably  still  under 
100,000,  and  the  area  of  the  real,  historic  city  within 


the  ancient  walls  is  only  210  acres,  or  less  than  a 
third  of  a  square  mile.  That  is,  it  is  a  little  larger 
than  the  Elevated  “Loop”  district  of  Chicago.  If 
the  Holy  City  were  laid  over  lower  New  York,  it 
would  extend  northward  from  the  Battery  hardly  as 
far  as  Fulton  Street.  For  a  still  more  startling  com- 

E  2  ] 


TINY  PALESTINE 


parison,  the  whole  walled  city  of  Jerusalem  is  exactly, 
to  an  acre,  one  quarter  as  big  as  Central  Park . 

It  is  a  little  city,  and  it  is  a  little  country.  From 
the  same  Jaffa  Gate  you  can  see  the  mountains  of 
Moab,  away  beyond  Jordan.  The  boundaries  of  the 
Holy  Land  have  always  been  somewhat  indefinite, 
however,  and  there  is  to-day  no  political  unit  corres¬ 
ponding  to  what  we  commonly  mean  by  “Palestine.”* 
Its  vilayets,  interlock  on  the  north  with  the  vilayets 
of  Syria,  a  district  so  closely  allied  to  the  Holy  Land 
in  climate  and  customs  that  we  must  frequently  look 
thither  for  the  best  modern  illustrations  of  Biblical 
history.  Indeed,  the  two  lands  are  often  considered 
together  under  the  common  designation  of  Syria,  and 
their  present  inhabitants  are  properly  known  as 
Syrians. 

The  region  most  closely  identified  with  the  sacred 
narratives  may  roughly  be  said  to  extend  from  the 
Mediterranean  on  the  west  to  the  Jordan  Valley  on 
the  east,  and  from  Mt.  Hermon  and  the  Leontes 
River  on  the  north  to  the  Arabian  Desert  on  the 
south.  This  seems  to  have  been  the  original  “Prom¬ 
ised  Land”  (see  Numbers  34:6-12).  The  Hebrews 
occasionally  controlled  part  of  the  country  east  of 
Jordan;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  they  did  not  occupy 
the  coastal  plain.  These  boundaries  include  an  area  of 

^Palestine  proper  includes  the  southern  portions  of  the 
vilayets  of  Damascus  and  Beirut,  and  the  independent  mutesar- 
rifiyet  (sub-province)  of  Jerusalem. 

[  3  ] 


There  is  no  real  harbor  at  Jaffa.  Steamers  must  anchor  some 
distance  out,  and  passengers  are  landed  by  rowboats 


The  Jaffa  Gate  of  Jerusalem,  the  busiest  part  of  the 

Holy  City 


TINY  PALESTINE 


about  6,000  square  miles,  which  is  somewhat  smaller 
than  that  of  the  State  of  New  Jersey.  The  entire 
length  of  the  country,  “from  Dan  to  Beer-sheba,”  is 
about  the  distance  from  New  York  to  Albany;  and 
so  narrow  is  Palestine  that  if  Chicago  were  placed 
across  it  with  one  end  at  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  the 
other  end  of  the  city  would  be  washed  by  the  waters 
of  the  Mediterranean. 

Let  us  imagine  Jerusalem  to  be  situated  at  the 
lower  end  of  Central  Park,  which  it  would  fill  almost 
as  far  up  as  the  lake.  Then  Bethlehem  would  be  at 
Bowling  Green,  Hebron  would  lie  among  the  central 
hills  of  Staten  Island,  and  the  Dead  Sea  would  begin 
at  Jamaica  Bay.  Going  northward,  we  should  find 
Bethel  in  Van  Cortlandt  Park,  the  city  of  Samaria 
at  Haverstraw,  Nazareth  at  Poughkeepsie,  Mt.  Her- 
mon  at  the  heart  of  the  Catskills,  and  Damascus,  the 
arch-enemy  of  Jerusalem,  would  lie  just  this  side 
of  Albany.* 

There  is  no  other  country  in  the  world  whose 
geographical  features  can  so  easily  be  taken  in  by 
the  naked  eye.  As  has  been  said,  Palestine  is  about 
the  size  of  New  Jersey.  Now  I  was  bom  in  New 
Jersey  and  have  traveled  over  almost  the  entire  state; 
but  I  know  of  no  spot  from  which  one  can  get  even  an 


*The  reader  understands  that,  while  the  above  comparisons 
are  exact  so  far  as  distances  are  concerned,  the  directions  are 
only  approximate.  The  Palestinian  towns  do  not  lie  so  nearly 
in  a  straight  line  as  do  the  cities  along  the  Hudson. 

[  5  ] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


approximate  idea  of  the  general  configuration,  and 
principal  physical  features  of  the  State  of  New  Jer¬ 
sey.  In  Palestine  there  are  countless  summits  from 
which  even  the  untrained  observer  can  understand 
the  whole  lay  of  the  land.  As  you  ride  up-country 
from  Jerusalem,  you  are  hardly  ever  out  of  sight  of 
the  Mediterranean  on  the  left  or  the  mountains 
“beyond  Jordan”  on  the  right;  and  often  you  can  see 
both  the  western  and  the  eastern  boundaries  at  once. 
To  a  person  who  has  wearily  traced  his  way  through 
other  countries  whose  mountains  and  rivers  and  lakes 
did  not  appear  at  all  as  he  expected  them  to,  one  of 
the  most  startling  things  about  the  Holy  Land  is 
that  it  look's  just  like  the  map. 

Stand,  for  instance,  on  the  rounded  summit  of  Mt. 
Tabor.  You  are  only  2,000  feet  above  the  Plain  of 
Esdraelon ;  but  you  can  see  the  whole  northern  half 
of  Palestine.  To  the  west  is  Mt.  Carmel,  jutting 
into  the  blue  Mediterranean  like  a  huge,  blunt  cigar. 
To  the  east  is  the  valley  of  the  Jordan;  and  while 
the  river  itself  is  so  low  as  to  be  out  of  sight,  the 
mountains  of  Gilead  beyond  it  are  clearly  visible. 
To  the  south  is  the  flat  Plain  of  Esdraelon,  broken 
into  by  “Little  Hermon,”  upon  whose  slopes  lie  tiny 
hamlets  which  still  bear  the  familiar  names  of  Endor, 
Nain  and  Shunem.  Beyond  Little  Hermon  is  the 
hill  of  Jezreel,  and  still  farther  to  the  south  are 
seen  Mt.  Gilboa  and  the  highlands  of  Samaria.  To 
the  north  is  Nazareth,  whose  highest  houses  can  be 


TINY  PALESTINE 


clearly  seen,  shining  white  against  the  dark  hills  of 
Galilee;  and  the  saddle-shaped  Horns  of  Hattin; 
and  the  deep  valley  sloping  down  to  where  we  know 
the  Sea  of  Galilee  lies,  behind  the  intervening  hiHs; 
while,  back  of  the  northern  mountains,  with  its  coni¬ 
cal  summit  dominating  all  the  landscape,  great  Her- 
mon  towers  over  9,000  feet  into  the  sky. 

Or  stand  on  Mt.  Ebal,  which  rises  3,000  feet  above 
the  sea,  just  north  of  the  city  of  Shechem;  and  you 
can  see  virtually  all  Palestine.  You  look  westward 
over  the  rolling  foothills  to  the  coastal  plain  and  the 
Mediterranean.  To  the  east  the  long,  level  line  of 
the  mountains  on  the  other  side  of  the  Jordan  is  bro¬ 
ken  only  by  the  deep  gorges  of  the  Yarmuk  and 
Jabbok  rivers.  To  the  south  you  can  see  over  Mt. 
Gerizim  and  far  across  Samaria  to  the  tower  at 
Mizpeh  in  Judea,  which  is  only  five  miles  from 
Jerusalem.  To  the  north  the  view  reaches  past  the 
hills  of  Samaria  to  Mt.  Carmel;  over  the  hollow  where 
lies  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon ;  and  then  up  again  be¬ 
yond  the  mountains  of  Galilee,  until  the  eye  rests 
upon  far-distant  Hermon,  still  imperial  in  its  gran¬ 
deur,  though  it  is  now  seventy-five  miles  away.  With 
the  exception  of  the  desert  wanderings  and  the  jour¬ 
neys  of  St.  Paul,  nearly  all  Bible  history  is  com¬ 
prehended  within  the  panorama  from  Ebal’s  summit. 

It  is  a  tiny  country;  yet  in  all  our  own  enormous 
land,  from  the  Great  Lakes  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 
and  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  you  will  not 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


find  a  larger  variety  of  scenery,  climate  and  pro¬ 
ducts  than  exists  within  the  narrow  confines  of 
Palestine. 

It  is  essentially  a  mountainous  country.  Plains, 
or  even  broad  valleys,  are  the  exception.  It  is  quite 
impossible  to  arrive  at  an  adequate  understanding  of 
the  religion  or  politics  or  social  customs  or  economic 
problems  of  Palestine,  unless  it  is  constantly  borne 
in  mind  that  from  Beer-sheba  to  Dan,  and  then  north¬ 
ward  through  Syria  as  far  as  Aleppo,  there  runs  a 
backbone  of  rugged  highlands,  interspersed  here  and 
there  with  lofty  mountain  peaks.  The  Biblical  writ¬ 
ers  were  nearly  all  highlanders.  In  all  the  Holy  Land 
to-day  only  two  towns  of  any  importance  are 
situated  in  valleys ;  and  these  two,  Shechem  and  He¬ 
bron,  are  in  high,  narrow  valleys  which  run  at  right 
angles  to  the  trend  of  the  central  range,  and  are 
therefore  easy  of  defense.  The  altitude  of  Nazareth 
is  over  1,000  feet;  the  city  of  Samaria  lies  1,540 
feet  above  the  sea;  and  Jerusalem  is  at  an  elevation 
of  2,500  feet.  The  summit  of  Mt.  Hermon  is  9,380 
feet  above  the  surface  of  the  Mediterranean.  The 
lower  end  of  the  Jordan  Valley  by  the  Dead  Sea  is 
1,292  feet  below  the  Mediterranean — the  lowest  spot 
on  the  surface  of  the  earth! 

On  account  of  this  extraordinary  range  of  alti¬ 
tude,  there  is  no  other  country  of  like  size  which  fur¬ 
nishes  such  a  variety  of  food  products.  The  vegeta¬ 
tion  of  the  Jordan  Valley  is  tropical;  that  of  the 


TINY  PALESTINE 


Mediterranean  shores  is  sub-tropical;  the  trees  on 
the  mountain  slopes  are  those  of  our  temperate  zone; 
while  the  summits  of  Hermon  and  Lebanon  are  al¬ 
most  entirely  bare  of  vegetable  life,  and  so  cold  that 
snow  lies  all  the  year  round  in  the  sheltered  gorges. 

At  the  end  of  one  summer  trip  in  the  mountains 
of  Syria,  I  slept  under  four  blankets,  breakfasted 
in  my  heaviest  winter  clothing,  with  a  rug  wrapped 
around  me  for  added  warmth,  and  that  same  evening 
I  took  dinner  in  a  coast  town  where  the  thinnest  of 
duck  suits  was  none  too  cool.  I  once  watched  the 
thermometer  at  Jericho  rise  until  it  registered  135 
degrees.  A  few  days  later  I  rode  past  a  Lebanon 
snow-drift  eighty  feet  high,  and  swam  in  a  mountain 
stream  whose  temperature  was  onty  ten  degrees 
above  the  freezing  point.  And  all  this  was  in  the 
month  of  August ! 

So  it  is  difficult  to  give  a  satisfactory  answer  to  the 
frequent  inquiry  as  to  the  climate  of  the  Holy  Land. 
Which  climate?  Palestine  has  all  climates — from  the 
climate  of  Egypt  to  the  climate  of  Labrador. 

But,  taking  an  average  locality  among  the  central 
highlands,  the  winter  is  raw  and  showery,  like  a  rather 
cold  New  England  April.  Now  and  then  there  will 
be  a  bright,  clear  day  of  warm,  gorgeous  splendor. 
But  when  it  does  rain,  it  rains  furiously,  with  crash¬ 
ing  thunder  and  vivid  lightning.  I  once  counted 
twenty-two  flashes  in  a  minute.  Often  there  will  be 
heavy  hail — my  window  was  once  broken  by  it — and 


L  y  J 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


great  winds  which  blow  down  the  vines  and  tear  the 
tiles  off  the  roofs.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  water¬ 
spouts  at  sea.  Sometimes  a  dozen  of  them  will  be 
in  sight  at  the  same  time,  whirling  and  twisting 
between  the  storm  clouds  above  and  the  angry 
waves  beneath. 

Down  by  the  coast,  it  hardly  ever  freezes.  Ice  may 
be  seen  once  in  ten  or  fifteen  years.  Up  at  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  however,  snow  storms  are  not  infrequent,  and 
the  drifts  have  lain  knee-deep  by  the  Jaffa  Gate. 
The  usual  painting  of  the  Nativity  clothes  the  by¬ 
standers  far  too  lightly  for  a  Judean  December;  for 
the  traveler  who  visits  Palestine  in  mid-winter  finds 
that  his  heaviest  overcoat  is  none  too  warm. 

In  the  summer  time  the  temperature  is  high  (76 
degrees  is  the  average  for  a  Jerusalem  August),  and 
it  stays  high  month  after  month,  which  is  very  wear¬ 
ing  on  the  nerves.  But  there  are  seldom  any  such 
terrific  hot  spells  as  occur  every  year  in  New  York 
and  Chicago.  In  mid-summer  I  have  ridden  through 
Judea  ten  and  twelve  hours  a  day  without  suffering 
anything  worse  than  the  natural  discomfort  from 
perspiration  and  dust.  The  direct  rays  of  the  sun, 
however,  are  almost  inconceivably  hot,  and  it  is  dan¬ 
gerous  to  neglect  to  protect  properly  the  head  and 
neck.  On  the  other  hand,  “the  shadow  of  a  great 
rock”  will  be  from  thirty  to  fifty  degrees  cooler  than 
the  sunshine’s  glare,  not  ten  feet  away.  The  houses 
are  built  with  thick  stone  walls  and  high  ceilings  and 

[10] 


TINY  PALESTINE 


shaded  windows,  so  that  indoors  the  temperature  sel¬ 
dom  rises  above  eighty  or  eighty-five  degrees.  Even 
during  a  sirocco — the  occasional  dry  desert  wind 
which  is  the  one  real  discomfort  of  the  Syrian  sum¬ 
mer — I  never  remember  that  my  own  room  was  as  hot 
as  ninety  degrees,  and  the  dark,  stone  churches  and 
monasteries  are  apt  to  be  dangerously  cold  and  damp. 

The  hottest  part  of  the  day  is  just  after  sunrise, 
during  the  lull  while  the  wind  is  shifting;  but  soon  a 
refreshing  breeze  springs  up  from  the  Mediterranean 
and  tempers  the  summer  heat.  At  Jerusalem  it  is  apt 
to  be  cool  after  dark  at  any  time  of  the  year.  Even 
in  August,  the  ladies  used  to  carry  wraps  with  them, 
when  we  went  up  to  the  roof  for  an  after-dinner  chat. 
One  of  the  party,  who  neglected  to  put  on  an  extra 
garment,  caught  a  severe  cold.  My  own  teeth  have 
never  since  chattered  as  they  did  one  summer  morn¬ 
ing  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  while  I  sat  to  the  lee¬ 
ward  of  a  protecting  rock,  watching  for  the  sunrise, 
and  shivering  in  the  piercing  wind.  All  in  all,  I  have 
suffered  more  from  the  heat  in  New  York  City  than 
I  ever  did  in  Palestine. 

The  best  time  of  the  year  for  visiting  the  Holy 
Land  is  during  the  months  of  March  and  April,  just 
after  the  rains  have  stopped,  while  the  wild  flowers 
are  most  gorgeous  and  the  dust  is  laid  and  the  air 
washed  clean  and  the  climate  like  that  of  our  own 
June.  But  for  those  who  cannot  take  a  vacation 
except  in  the  summer,  there  is  no  reason  why  a  trip 

[11] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


to  Palestine  cannot  be  made  in  July  or  August  with 
absolute  safety  and  with  a  fair  degree  of  comfort. 
Of  course,  one  must  exercise  good  judgment  and  com¬ 
mon  sense — qualities  which  some  visitors  to  the  Holy 
Land  apparently  leave  at  home.  If  you  will  go  out 
in  the  sun  bare-headed,  or  persist  in  getting  over¬ 
tired  by  walking  when  you  could  just  as  well  ride,  or 
make  your  diet  of  cucumbers  and  Oriental  sweet¬ 
meats,  it  will  not  be  the  fault  of  the  climate  if  you 
fall  sick.  But  with  the  exercise  of  a  few  simple  pre¬ 
cautions,  such  as  are  necessary  at  first  when  visiting 
any  new  country,  there  will  be  less  danger  to  health 
than  at  the  average  American  seaside  resort. 

Of  other  dangers,  there  are  none  at  any  season ; 
that  is,  none  along  the  route  of  the  ordinary  tourist. 
West  of  the  Jordan,  the  traveler  is  as  safe  as  he  is 
east  of  the  Mississippi ;  and  his  “roughing  it”  con¬ 
sists  in  riding  a  very  quiet,  sure-footed  horse  during 
the  trip  up-country,  halting  for  tea  in  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon,  eating  a  five-course  dinner  at  night, 
and  being  served  by  the  corps  of  well-trained  servants 
which  is  provided  by  every  competent  dragoman  and 
tourist-agency.  As  I  lived  in  the  country  and  spoke 
Arabic,  I  never  employed  a  dragoman  and  perhaps  I 
did  rough  it  a  bit,  off  the  beaten  track;  but  even  so, 
I  never  thought  of  carrying  any  deadlier  weapon 
than  a  small  switch  for  the  horse.  The  chief  peril 
for  the  daring  Palestinian  explorer  is  a  midnight 
attack  by  a  band  of  predatory — fleas  ! 

[12] 


TINY  PALESTINE 


If  you  make  your  first  trip  to  Palestine  during  the 
hot  season,  it  might  be  wise  to  omit  the  more  fatigu^ 
ing  horseback  rides,  such  as  that  from  Nazareth 
to  Damascus.  But  you  can  go  by  train  from  Jaffa  to 
Jerusalem,  and  thence  by  carriage  to  Bethany,  Beth¬ 
lehem  and  Hebron,  all  of  which  are  as  high  as  many 
a  Catskill  hotel.  Then,  returning  to  Jaffa,  it  is  only 
a  night  trip  by  sea  to  Haifa  and  Mt.  Carmel,  and 
an  easy  jaunt  by  railway  and  carriage  to  Mt.  Tabor, 
Nazareth,  Cana  and  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  A  second 
night  on  the  steamer  brings  you  from  Haifa  to 
Beirut,  which  is  the  terminus  of  a  railway  to  Damas¬ 
cus  and  Ba‘albek  and  the  cool  summer  resorts  on  the 
western  slopes  of  the  Lebanon  range. 

Everywhere  on  such  a  trip  you  will  find  comfort¬ 
able  hotels  and  English-speaking  guides.  You  will 
cross  the  Mediterranean  when  its  waters  are  the  calm¬ 
est;  the  steamers  and  railways  will  not  be  over- 
crowded ;  hotels  will  give  better  accommodations  and 
lower  rates  than  during  the  busy  season ;  guides  and 
shop-keepers  will  be  more  anxious  to  please ;  and  the 
points  of  interest  can  be  visited  in  a  quiet,  leisurely 
way,  without  the  hurry  and  jostling  and  excitement 
of  the  spring  months,  when  all  Palestine,  and  espe¬ 
cially  Jerusalem,  is  seething  with  noisy,  unkempt  pil¬ 
grims  and  tired,  nervous  tourists. 

For  two  persons  traveling  together,  such  a  sum¬ 
mer  month  in  Palestine  and  Syria,  beginning  at  Jaffa 
and  ending  at  Beirut,  ought  not  to  cost  over  $150 

[131 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


apiece,  including  comfortable  lodgings  and  occasional 
carriage  hire  and  the  services  of  a  guide  when  neces¬ 
sary.  If  the  travelers  had  a  smattering  of  Arabic 
and  were  willing  to  sleep  in  native  khans ,  the  trip 
might  be  made  for  half  that  sum. 

I  hope  that  the  ship  of  your  imagination  is  already 
riding  at  anchor  in  the  harbor  of  Jaffa.  There  really 
is  not  any  harbor,  and  you  will  have  to  go  ashore  in 
small  rowboats  which  roll  perilously  as  they  thread 
their  way  between  the  jagged  rocks  by  the  landing; 
but  this  will  only  add  further  zest  to  your  first 
experience  in  Palestine. 

It  was  in  this  little  bay  that  gallant  Perseus  slew 
the  dragon  and  freed  the  enchained  Andromeda. 
Later  on,  Perseus  moved  eighty  miles  north  to  Beirut 
and  changed  his  name  to  St.  George.  On  one  of  the 
roofs  of  Jaffa,  while  Peter  was  waiting  anxiously  for 
dinner,  he  had  that  vision  which  was  to  exercise  such 
a  mighty  influence  upon  the  history  of  Christian  mis¬ 
sions.  The  priests  have  recently  changed  the  location 
of  the  house  of  Simon  the  Tanner,  and  have  put  it 
nearer  to  the  custom  house,  so  that  travelers  will  have 
no  excuse  for  passing  it  by.  Back  of  the  crowded 
streets  of  the  seaport  are  the  far-famed  orange  groves 
of  Jaffa  and  the  gently  rolling  Plain  of  Sharon,  where 
still  bloom  the  Hose  of  Sharon  and  the  Lily  of  the 
Valley,  or,  as  we  should  call  them,  the  narcissus  and 
the  blue  iris.  And  off  at  the  eastern  horizon  are  the 

[  14  j 


TINY  PALESTINE 


dim  foothills  of  Judea  and  the  beginning  of  that 
great,  little  country,  which  is  so  varied  in  its  scenery, 
so  strange  in  its  language,  so  heterogeneous  in  its 
population,  so  contradictory  in  its  spiritual  aspects 
and,  above  all,  so  different  from  the  country  from 
which  you  have  come,  that  you  will  have  to  travel  fat 
and  observe  closely  and  ponder  deeply  before  you  will 
be  able  to  sympathize  at  all  with  the  old  patriot-poets 
who  called  this  “the  Glory  of  all  Lands.” 

Welcome,  then,  to  Palestine !  In  the  words  of  the 
Syrian  mountaineer,  Marhabah!  To  which  greet¬ 
ing  you  must  answer,  “A  double  welcome” — 

M  arhabtam! 


[151 


II 


THE  GREAT  SOUTH  ROAD 


DURING  one  of  my  visits  to  Jerusalem,  I  lived 
for  a  month  m  a  room  directly  opposite  the 
Jaffa  Gate.  As  a  consequence,  of  all  the 
sights  I  have  seen  on  my  travels,  none  is  more 
indelibly  fixed  in  my  memory  than  the  incessant, 
kaleidoscopic  movement  of  the  motley  crowd  through 
the  busiest  entrance  to  the  Holy  City,  and  then, 
beyond  the  gate,  the  curving  line  of  the  long  white 
road  which  winds  up  over  the  southern  hills  toward 
Bethlehem  and  Hebron  and  the  far-off  Arabian 
Desert. 

Strangely  enough,  the  most  vivid  word-painting  of 
the  throngs  by  the  Jaffa  gate  is  the  classic  passage 
in  “Ben  Hur,”  which  was  written  before  General  Lew 
[Wallace  ever  went  to  Palestine.  You  need  change 
very  few  details  in  that  description  of  the  heterogene¬ 
ous  multitude  of  the  first  century  to  make  it  an  exact 
picture  of  the  twentieth  century  scene.  Here  are  Jews 
and  Moslems  and  Druses,  and  Christians  of  every 
sect ;  Armenian  bankers  and  Abyssinian  monks  and 
American  schoolma’ams ;  Jewish  rabbis  and  Moham- 


[16] 


Maskeen!  Maskeen!  ”  Lepers  of  Jerusalem 


The  Hebron  road  passing  the  southern  end  of  Jerusalem 


THE  GREAT  SOUTH  ROAD 


medan  sheikhs  ;  Greek  merchants  and  German  doctors ; 
Levantine  peddlers  and  English  globe-trotters ;  dark 
desert  Arabs  and  pallid  French  nuns;  Russian  pil¬ 
grims  and  Syrian  dragomans ;  black-robed  Jesuits 
and  white-robed  Dominicans  and  brown-robed  Fran¬ 
ciscans  ;  descendants  of  the  Prophet  in  green  turbans, 
and  Turkish  soldiers  in  red  fezes  without  tassels,  and 
Eastern  priests  in  tall  stove-pipe  hats  without  brims, 
and  Protestant  missionaries  in  pith  sun-helmets ;  an 
inextricable  jumble  of  multi-colored  garments  and 
discordant  languages  and  inimical  races  and  rival 
religions  passing  in  and  out,  all  day  long,  through 
the  famous  portal  of  the  ancient  city. 

Among  the  crowd — though  always  outside  of  the 
gate,  for  they  are  not  allowed  within  the  city — you 
6ee  one  or  two  little  groups  of  lepers,  stricken  with 
that  most  terrible  of  diseases ;  mysterious,  revolting, 
incurable ;  which  eats  away  the  body  while  the  soul 
still  lives.  The  bones  of  the  face  are  usually  attacked 
comparatively  early  in  the  progress  of  the  malady, 
and  the  bridge  of  the  nose  falls  in,  which  makes  the 
lepers  resemble  horrible  Mongolians.  The  vocal  cords 
are  affected  and  the  throat  muscles  paralyzed,  so 
that  the  voice  sinks  to  a  hoarse,  sepulchral  whisper. 
The  fingers  swell  up  and  drop  off  at  the  joints;  then 
the  hands  and  feet  are  lost.  Yet  at  least  one  form 
of  the  disease  (for  there  are  several)  is  accompanied 
by  anaesthesia  rather  than  by  acute  suffering;  and 
often  it  is  a  very  long  time  before  death  comes.  I 

[17] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


talked  with  two  men  who  had  suffered  with  leprosy 
for  twenty-five  years,  and  with  a  third  who,  according 
to  the  testimony  of  a  European  physician,  had  been 
a  leper  for  thirty-one  years. 

It  is  far  from  certain  that  the  modern  disease  is 
the  same  as  the  “leprosy”  of  the  Old  Testament, 
which  seems,  from  the  sanitary  regulations  of  the 
Pentateuch,  to  have  been  a  whitish,  scaly  affection  of 
the  skin,  which  did  not  necessarily  incapacitate  the 
sufferer  from  pursuing  his  ordinary  occupations,  and 
from  which  eventually  he  might  completely  recover. 
Possibly,  however,  the  Hebrew  word  embraced  all  dis¬ 
eases  which  were  accompanied  by  external  disfigure¬ 
ment,  including  what  is  now  known  as  leprosy. 

There  are  not  many  lepers  in  modern  Palestine — 
less  than  a  hundred  in  Jerusalem;  half  of  them  living 
in  huts  provided  by  the  government  near  the  village 
of  Siloam,  south  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  the 
other  half  in  the  Moravian  hospital  a  mile  southwest 
of  the  city.  In  the  entire  country  there  may  be  a 
few  hundred  lepers.  The  doctors  in  Palestine  do  not 
consider  that  the  disease  is  contagious.  It  is  still 
one  of  the  mysteries  of  medical  science ;  but  it  seems 
to  result  from  unhealthful  environment  and  wrong 
diet  and,  possibly,  heredity,  rather  than  from  acci¬ 
dental  contact  with  those  who  are  diseased.  The 
Moravian  physician  told  me  that  he  allowed  his 
family  to  live  with  him  at  the  leper  hospital,  under 
the  same  roof  with  forty  patients,  few  of  whom  were 

[18] 


THE  GREAT  SOUTH  ROAD 


confined  to  their  rooms.  Some  of  our  American 
state  health  boards  have  recently  become  quite  un¬ 
necessarily  panic-stricken — not  to  say  barbarously 
cruel — over  the  discovery  of  an  isolated  case  within 
their  jurisdiction. 

Yet  leprosy  is  a  loathsome  thing — unspeakably 
so — and  it  is  not  pleasant  to  have  the  lepers  hobble 
alongside  the  carriage,  and  try  to  attract  your  atten¬ 
tion  by  putting  their  swollen  hands  upon  your  coat 
sleeve:  They  do  not  cry  “unclean”  as  in  ancient 
times ;  but  even  those  who  are  too  weak  to  stand,  sit 
in  little  circles  outside  the  city  gates  and  hold  up 
their  poor,  shapeless  hands  to  the  passers-by,  and 
cry  Maskeen !  Maslceen!  “I  am  miserable!  miserable!” 
And,  alas,  they  are. 

Beyond  the  shadow  of  the  gate,  we  come  out  into 
the  full  glare  of  the  Judean  sunshine,  where  the  dusty 
highway  stretches  dazzlingly  before  us.  It  is  a  good 
road,  and  it  will  take  us  hardly  an  hour  to  reach 
Bethlehem,  five  miles  away.  At  our  left  rise  the 
stern,  gray  walls  of  the  Holy  City,  which  in  places 
are  forty  feet  in  height,  and  are  further  strengthened 
by  thirty-four  projecting  towers.  The  present  ram¬ 
parts  were  erected  by  the  Sultan  Suleiman  in  the 
year  1542;  but  materials  from  the  ruins  of  earlier 
walls  were  freely  used  in  the  rebuilding,  and  in  places 
the  foundations  date  back  to  the  Jewish  days.  Close 
by  the  Jaffa  Gate  the  fortifications  are  dominated  by 
the  massive  citadel,  which  is  the  only  fortress  in 

[19] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


modern  Jerusalem,  and  is  commonly  known  as  the 
“Castle  of  David.” 

After  we  pass  the  citadel,  the  road  descends  very 
rapidly,  and  as  we  look  up  the  steep,  bare  slope, 
crowned  by  the  fortifications  which  rise  so  high  above 
us  that  nothing  is  visible  beyond  them  save  a  nearby 
minaret  or  the  roof  of  a  house  built  against  the  wall, 
we  realize,  as  never  before,  how  the  little  mountain 
city  has  been  able  again  and  again  to  hold  out  stub¬ 
bornly  against  vastly  superior  besieging  forces.  In¬ 
deed,  from  this  western  side,  Jerusalem  has  never 
been  taken  by  assault. 

At  the  other  edge  of  the  road,  on  our  right,  is  the 
BirJcet  es-Sultan,  or  “Pool  of  the  Sultan,”  one  of  the 
series  of  ancient  reservoirs  lying  in  the  valleys  which 
encircle  Jerusalem.  Within  the  whole  city  there  is 
not  and  never  has  been  a  single  well ;  and  during  the 
long,  rainless  summer,  the  inhabitants  are  still  de¬ 
pendent  for  practically  their  entire  water  supply 
upon  a  few  public  reservoirs  and  countless  private 
cisterns,  which  collect  the  winter  rains.  When  these 
rains  are  insufficient,  water  is  brought  into  the  city 
on  muleback  from  springs  in  the  surrounding  coun¬ 
try.  The  last  time  I  was  in  Jerusalem,  water  was 
being  peddled  in  the  streets. 

The  Birlcet  es-Sultan ,  so  called  because  it  was 
repaired  by  the  same  Sultan  Suleiman  who  rebuilt 
the  fortifications,  is  the  largest  of  the  public  reser¬ 
voirs,  being  550  feet  long,  220  feet  wide  and  40  feet 

[20] 


THE  GREAT  SOUTH  ROAD 


deep.  It  is  believed  by  some  to  be  the  “Lower  Pool” 
of  Gihon,  referred  to  in  the  Old  Testament.  The 
reservoir  was  very  easily  constructed  by  simply  build¬ 
ing  two  dams  across  the  valley,  which  was  then  fur¬ 
ther  broadened  between  the  dams  by  removing  the 
loose  earth  as  far  as  the  rock  on  either  side.  Like 
most  public  works  under  the  Turkish  government,  the 
Birket  es-Sultan  has  unfortunately  been  allowed  to 
go  to  ruin.  At  the  lower  end  of  the  excavation  is  a 
small  pool  of  filthy,  stagnant  water ;  part  of  the  other 
end  is  used  as  a  market  garden;  and  in  the  middle 
are  held  sales  of  cattle  and  grain,  especially  on 
Friday,  which  is  the  Moslem  Sabbath. 

On  the  broken  rampart  of  the  old  reservoir  sits  a 
man  whom  we  can  instantly  recognize  as  a  native  of 
Bethlehem,  not  only  by  the  distinctive,  bright-colored 
turban  which  he  wears  set  far  back  on  his  high  fore¬ 
head,  but  also  by  his  long,  aquiline  features ;  for 
although  the  inhabitants  of  modern  Bethlehem  are 
nearly  all  Christians,  their  peculiar  type  of  face 
makes  them  look  much  more  like  the  traditional 
Hebrew  than  do  the  real  Jews  of  the  Holy  Land. 

At  the  foot  of  the  Sultan’s  Pool,  the  road  to  the 
railway  station  branches  off'  to  the  right,  past  the 
olive  groves  of  the  Jewish  colony  which  was  estab¬ 
lished  here  by  Sir  Moses  Montefiore.  At  our  left  the 
Valley  of  Hinnom  sinks  down  around  the  southern 
end  of  Jerusalem,  its  steep  sides  still  crowded  with 
the  innumerable  graves  and  rock-hewn  sepulchres  and 

[21] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


dusty  charnel  houses  which  made  the  Hebrew  name 
for  the  valley,  “Gehenna,”  a  synonym  for  hot,  hope¬ 
less  desolation.  Straight  in  front  of  us  the  highroad 
rises  to  the  top  of  the  hill  where,  by  the  English 
Ophthalmic  Hospital,  we  pause  for  a  last  near  view 
of  the  Holy  City.  Then,  turning  forward  again,  we 
breathe  the  fresher  air  of  the  open  country,  and  look 
upon  pleasant  panoramas  of  gently  rolling  hills, 
whose  summits  are  covered  with  straggling  olive 
orchards,  and  whose  lower  slopes  are  terraced  for 
the  cultivation  of  the  mulberry,  fig  and  grape.  As 
we  reach  the  end  of  each  gradual  ascent,  there  comes 
a  broader  outlook,  especially  to  the  left,  where  we 
can  see  beyond  the  farmland  to  the  bare  summits  of 
the  Judean  Wilderness,  and  then  off  to  the  level  line 
of  the  blue  mountains  beyond  Jordan,  which  seem  to 
march  with  us  all  the  way. 

There  probably  never  was  a  time  when  there  was 
not  a  road  here,  passing  from  north  to  south  through 
the  center  of  Judea.  You  can  still  see  beside  it  the 
fallen  Roman  mile-stones.  But  it  was  already  an 
ancient  highway  when  the  Romans  repaired  it. 
Herod’s  chariot  passed  along  it,  and  the  soldiers  of 
Judas  Maccabeus,  and  the  knights  of  Tancred. 
Chronological  order  is  baffled  by  the  rapid  succession 
of  great  events  which  are  suggested  at  every  step 
along  the  historic  highroad.  Here  marched  the 
mighty  men  of  David,  and  the  swift  Saracen  bands 
of  Saladin,  and  the  richly  caparisoned  camels  of 

[22] 


THE  GREAT  SOUTH  ROAD 


the  Queen  of  Sheba,  and  the  flocks  of  Abraham,  and 
the  brilliant  court  of  Solomon’s  Egyptian  queen,  and 
the  reverent  pupils  of  St.  Jerome;  here  passed  the 
slow,  heavily  laden  caravans  from  Arabia,  in  that 
dark,  mysterious  period  before  Hebrew  history, 
when  “the  Canaanite  dwelt  in  the  land” ;  and  here, 
one  bleak  December  evening,  there  trudged  wearily 
along  an  old  man  and  his  bride,  who  had  come  down 
all  the  way  from  Nazareth  of  Galilee,  that  their 
names  might  be  enrolled  in  the  tax-list  at  Bethlehem. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  the  way  is  fairly  cluttered 
with  legends  and  fanciful  localizations  of  historic 
incidents,  ancient  and  modern,  Moslem,  Jewish  and 
Christian.  Few  of  them  have  even  the  slightest  basis 
in  fact,  and  these  have  seldom  any  stronger  proof 
than  the  self-evident  proposition  that  the  event  in 
question  must  have  happened  somewhere ,  and,  if  so, 
why  not  by  this  particular  stone  or  under  yonder 
tree?  Many  of  the  traditions  show  a  child-like  con¬ 
fusion  concerning  historical  details,  as  where  a  cer¬ 
tain  bishop  Elijah  is  identified  with  the  prophet  of 
that  name,  and  the  monastery  which  the  good  bishop 
built  half-way  between  Jerusalem  and  Bethlehem  is 
consequently  revered  as  the  scene  of  Elijah’s  vision 
under  the  juniper  tree.  Nevertheless  it  might  be 
said  for  even  the  most  extravagant  and  impossible  of 
these  tales  that  they  do  serve  to  vivify  and  perpetuate 
the  memory  of  great  events  gone  by.  So  to  speak, 
these  stories  incarnate  for  the  ignorant  and  simple- 

[23] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


minded  peasants  of  Palestine,  important  moral  and 
religious  truths. 

Concerning  one  spot  by  the  roadside,  tradition  goes 
so  far  back  that,  even  if  it  is  wrong,  the  tradition 
itself  is  a  part  of  history.  For  thousands  of  years 
this  particular  place  has  been  reverenced  as  the  grave 
of  Rachel.  “I  buried  her  there  on  the  way  to  Beth¬ 
lehem,”  said  the  broken-hearted  husband,  Jacob.  The 
Hebrew  historian  adds  that  her  tombstone  remains 
“unto  this  day” ;  and  even  to  our  own  day  the  last 
resting-place  of  beautiful  Rachel  is  shown  about  a 
mile  outside  of  Bethlehem.  No  other  sacred  site  in 
Palestine  is  attested  by  so  continuous  a  line  of  his¬ 
torians  and  travelers.  For  many  centuries  the  grave 
was  marked  only  by  a  pyramid  of  stones.  The 
present  structure,  with  its  white  dome,  is  about  four 
hundred  years  old.  But  there  it  stands  “unto  this 
day,”  revered  by  Christians,  Jews  and  Moslems ;  and 
the  wandering  Arabs  bring  their  dead  to  be  buried  in 
its  holy  shadow. 

The  road  now  forks  twice.  First  a  left-hand 
branch  leads  into  Bethlehem.  A  little  further  on, 
another  road  goes  off  to  the  right  to  Beit  Jala,  whose 
extensive  olive  orchards  are  seen  on  the  other  side  of 
the  valley.  Again,  however,  we  keep  straight  ahead 
on  the  central  highway  until,  seven  miles  from  Jeru¬ 
salem,  we  reach  the  three  famous  reservoirs  known  as 
“Solomon’s  Pools.” 

Beside  the  highest  reservoir,  nearest  the  road,  is 

[24] 


Solomon’s  Pools  and  the  KaVat  el-Burak 


One  of  the  ancient  wells  of  Beer-sheba 


THE  GREAT  SOUTH  ROAD 


the  KaVat  el-Burak,  or  “Castle  of  the  Pools,”  a 
large,  square  enclosure,  guarded  by  tall  stone  walls, 
with  castellated  towers  at  the  corners.  It  was  evi¬ 
dently  one  of  the  fortified  khans  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
placed  here  to  protect  the  important  road  to  the 
reservoirs  against 
forays  by  no¬ 
madic  robber 
bands. 

The  pools, 
which  lie  below 
the  “castle”  at 
the  left  of  the 
road,  are  partly 
built-up  of  ma¬ 
sonry,  but  chiefly 
excavated  out  of 
the  solid  rock- 
bed  of  the  nar¬ 
row,  rapidly 
sloping  ravine. 

For  the  supply 
of  water  they  de¬ 
pended  upon  the  winter  rains,  several  nearby  springs, 
and  a  pipe  which  drew  from  the  water-shed  in  the 
higher  hills  to  the  west. 

The  lowest  and  largest  pool  is  about  the  size  of 
the  Birket  es-Sultan  by  the  Jaffa  Gate;  that  is,  its 
length  is  a  little  short  of  six  hundred  feet  and  its 

[25] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


greatest  depth  fifty  feet.  From  it,  a  conduit  takes 
an  extremely  circuitous  course  around  the  intervening 
hills  to  Bethlehem  and  Jerusalem.  The  last  time  I 
visited  these  pools,  they  were  in  a  bad  state  of  dis¬ 
repair  and  almost  dry ;  but  they  have  recently  been 
restored,  and  now  again  the  ancient  reservoirs  send 
their  precious  water  to  the  Holy  City. 

It  is  not  known  who  originally  constructed  this 
extensive  system  of  water-works.  We  know  that  they 
were  repaired  under  Herod,  but  at  that  time  the 
reservoirs  were  apparently  very  old.  The  statement 
in  Ecclesiastes,  “I  made  me  pools  of  water,”  is  a  very 
slender  justification  for  the  belief  that  Solomon  built 
these  particular  pools.  But,  at  any  rate,  such  is  the 
popular  tradition;  and  consequently  many  passages 
in  Ecclesiastes  and  the  Song  of  Songs  which  refer  to 
pools  and  springs  and  gardens  and  orchards  are 
localized  in  the  adjacent  valleys. 

The  road  continues  good  all  the  way  to  Hebron, 
and  we  drive  rapidly  along  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
central  ridge,  winding  around  the  heads  of  ravines 
which  drop  away  to  our  left.  About  twenty  miles 
from  Jerusalem  we  pass  the  village  of  Halhul,  under 
whose  mosque  is  buried  the  prophet  Jonah.  At  least, 
so  say  the  Moslem  villagers.  But,  as  is  fitting  in  the 
case  of  so  famous  a  traveler,  the  grave  of  Jonah  is 
pointed  out  in  several  widely  separated  localities,  its 
ubiquity  being  rivalled  only  by  that  of  the  sepulchre 
of  John  the  Baptist. 


[26] 


THE  GREAT  SOUTH  ROAD 


A  mile  or  so  beyond  Halhul  are  the  ruins  of  a 
strange  structure  known  locally  as  the  “Shrine  of 
Abraham.”  The  building  must  have  been  a  massive 
and  imposing  one,  for  some  of  its  stones  are  as  much 
as  sixteen  feet  in  length;  but  just  when  or  why  it  was 
erected  is  quite  unknown.  Nearby,  however,  are  the 
remains  of  a  church  which  we  know  was  built  1,600 
years  ago  by  the  Emperor  Constantine;  for  we  are 
now  in  the  Abraham  country,  and  this  particular 
locality  was  believed  by  the  Jews  and  early  Christians 
to  be  the  site  of  the  Grove  of  Mamre,  where  the 
patriarch’s  tent  was  pitched  and  where  he  had  those 
wonderful  visions. 

Present  tradition,  however,  places  Mamre  a  little 
farther  on,  and  half  a  mile  to  the  right  of  the  main 
road.  Here  there  is  a  Russian  hospice,  with  vine¬ 
yards  which  remind  us  that  the  famous  grapes  of 
Eshcol  grew  somewhere  not  far  away,  and  an  ancient 
tree  which,  since  the  sixteenth  century  at  least,  has 
been  known  as  the  “Oak  of  Mamre”  or  “Abraham’s 
Oak.”  Its  short,  gnarled  trunk  is  over  thirty  feet 
in  circumference,  its  twisted  limbs  are  almost  en¬ 
tirely  bare  of  leaves  and  so  weak  that  they  have 
to  be  propped  up  by  heavy  beams ;  while  around 
the  old  oak  is  a  stout  iron  fence,  designed  to  keep 
goats  and  tourists  from  carrying  off  the  whole  tree 
piecemeal. 

We  are  already  at  the  edge  of  Hebron,  with  its 
venerable  traditions,  its  tanneries  and  glass-works,  its 

[27] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


filth  and  fanaticism,  and  the  fascinating  mystery  of 
its  forbidden  sepulchre.  But  the  visit  to  this  ancient 
city  must  be  postponed  until  another  chapter. 

Here  the  modern  carriage  road  ends ;  but  the 
primitive  highway  leads  on  southward  to  the  border 
of  Palestine,  where  one  can  to  this  day  see  the  water- 
pits  which  gave  to  the  locality  the  name  Beer-sheba, 
“Seven  Wells.”  After  3,000  years,  the  wandering 
Bedouins  continue  to  bring  their  sheep  and  goats  to 
be  watered  at  three  or  four  of  the  wells  which  remain 
in  serviceable  condition. 

From  Beer-sheba,  the  trail  winds  across  the  steppe- 
land  where  the  Arab  descendants  of  Abraham  still 
find  a  scanty  pasturage  for  their  flocks.  Then 
comes  the  real  desert,  surveyed  only  by  the  mys¬ 
terious  pathways  which  thread  across  the  wilder¬ 
ness  from  oasis  to  oasis.  One  route — though  it 
is  hard  to  find — brings  the  traveler  to  the  famous 
rivulet  at  Kadesh-barnea,  now  called  ‘Ain  Kadis ,  the 
“Holy  Spring,”  where  the  tribes  of  Israel  encamped 
while  the  twelve  spies  were  searching  out  the  land  of 
Canaan. 

From  here,  if  one  be  wise  and  brave  and  hardy, 
the  track  can  be  followed  far  southward  through 
the  maze  of  dry,  beaten  earth  and  dazzling  sand 
and  occasional  sheltered  pasture-land  and  bare, 
stony  mountains  and  sudden,  spring-fed  groves  to 
where,  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness,  two  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  below  Jerusalem,  great  Sinai  raises 

[28] 


Kadesh-barnea 


Mount  Sinai  ( Jebel  Musa )  and  the  plain  where  the  Children  of 

Israel  encamped 


THE  GREAT  SOUTH  ROAD 


its  many-colored,  rock-hewn  shoulders  above  the 
plain  where  the  wandering  Children  of  Israel  pitched 
their  tents  while  Moses  tarried  among  the  awful 
storm-clouds  which  shrouded  the  summit  of  the  Holy 
Mountain. 


[29] 


Ill 


RACES  AND  RELIGIONS 

IT  should  be  understood  that  the  mass  of  the  settled 
inhabitants  of  Palestine  are  not  Arabs,  though, 
by  a  loose  use  of  words,  they  are  usually  called 
such  by  Western  travelers  and  writers.  These  Pales¬ 
tinian  folk  do  indeed  speak  the  Arabic  language;  but 
so  do  all  of  the  readers  of  this  book  speak  the  English 
language,  although  only  a  very  small  proportion  of 
them  are  of  the  English  race. 

Nor  are  the  people  of  Palestine  Turks,  although 
their  country  is  included  in  the  Turkish  Empire, 
along  with  Armenia,  Albania,  Kurdistan  and,  nom¬ 
inally,  Cyprus  and  Egypt.  You  occasionally  see  a 
government  official  who  is  a  Turk ;  but  the  bulk  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Holy  Land  are  as  different 
from  the  Turks  in  blood  and  speech  as  we  are.  They 
do  not  even  belong  to  the  same  group  of  races  and, 
except  that  the  Turkish  has  borrowed  a  large  number 
of  words  from  the  richer  Arabic,  their  languages  are 
no  more  alike  than  English  and  Russian.  In  fact, 
taking  the  Empire  as  a  whole,  hardly  a  third  of  the 
inhabitants  are  Ottoman  Turks ;  and  the  remaining 
two-thirds,  whether  they  are  Christian  or  Moslem, 

[30] 


RACES  AND  RELIGIONS 


are  quite  unanimous  in  despising  the  Turk  and  hating 
his  government. 

The  Arabic-speaking  Turkish  subjects  of  Pales¬ 
tine  are  properly  called  Syrians.  They  are  a 
Semitic  race,  cousins  of  the  Arabs  and  the  Jews,  and 
are  the  descendants  of  the  various  peoples  who 
spoke  Aramaic  at  the  beginning  of  our  era,  espe¬ 
cially  the  “Syrians”  of  Biblical  days.  They  are  not 
all  of  pure  descent,  however;  for  this  land  has  been 
so  over-run  by  conquerors  and  traders  that  there  is 
found  in  Syrian  veins  an  admixture  of  strangely  dif¬ 
fering  blood.  You  see  natives  whose  features  remind 
you  of  the  Greek,  Abyssinian,  Egyptian,  Pole, 
Italian,  German,  Persian,  Turk  and  Englishman. 
Florid  complexions,  and  even  red  hair,  are  not  un¬ 
common  ;  for  the  Crusaders  left  more  than  ruined 
castles  behind  them  when  they  were  finally  driven 
out  of  Palestine,  and  Salibi,  “Crusader,”  is  fre¬ 
quently  met  with  as  a  family  name. 

The  typical  Syrian,  however,  is  dark-haired,  with 
large,  lustrous  eyes  (when  not  afflicted  with  the  very 
prevalent  ophthalmia),  regular  features,  full  lips, 
and  a  clean  brown  complexion  which  any  American 
or  English  girl  might  envy.  He  is  quick  and  imita¬ 
tive,  and  an  eager,  capable  student  when  opportunity 
offers.  Like  almost  all  Asiatics,  he  is  wonderfully 
apt  at  learning  foreign  languages,  and  is  an  adept 
at  reading  the  character  of  those  with  whom  he 
comes  into  even  casual  contact.  As  a  merchant,  he 

[31] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


is  a  true  descendant  of  his  Phoenician  ancestors, 
thrifty  yet  keen  and  daring;  and  in  his  business  rela¬ 
tions  he  is  not  guilty  of  the  petty  niggardliness  of 
some  other  Oriental  races.  If  he  is  given  the  slight¬ 
est  chance,  he  has  an  astounding  capacity  for  rising 
in  life.  My  own  Syrian  acquaintances  include  stu¬ 
dents  in  several  American  universities,  ministers  of 
American  congregations,  doctors  and  engineers  and 
merchants  and  editors  in  New  York,  Buenos  Ayres 
and  Rio  de  Janeiro.  The  proprietor  of  the  largest 
restaurant  in  lower  Manhattan  is  a  Syrian ;  so  is 
one  of  the  foremost  philosophical  writers  of  the 
world,  at  least  one  officer  in  the  United  States  army, 
and  the  editor  of  the  best  magazine  in  Egypt.  Com¬ 
ing  back  to  Palestine — if  the  tourist  who  alternately 
abuses  and  patronizes  his  “Arab”  dragoman  would 
combine  with  a  business-like  firmness  something  of 
Oriental  friendliness  and  sympathy,  he  would  find 
that,  whatever  the  Syrian’s  faults,  he  is  courteous, 
kind-hearted,  hospitable  and  lovable. 

As  to  religious  beliefs,  the  population  of  Palestine 
is  not  divided  into  Turks  and  Christians,  but  (dis¬ 
regarding  minor  faiths)  Syrian  Moslems  and  Syrian 
Christians.  The  former  are  descendants  of  the 
natives  who  embraced  Islam  at  the  time  of  the  great 
Moslem  conquest  in  the  seventh  century.  The  latter 
have  held  tenaciously  to  their  ancient  faith,  which 
antedates  the  creeds  of  western  Christendom.  As 
we  shall  see  later,  there  are  practically  no  native 

[32] 


RACES  AND  RELIGIONS 


Jews.  It  is  difficult  to  give  statistics,  because  of  the 
absence  of  any  reliable  census,  and  also  because,  as 
has  been  said,  there  is  no  political  unit  or  group  of 
units  corresponding  to  what  we  know  as  “Palestine.” 
The  population  is  probably  slightly  under  a  million, 
of  whom  about  half  are  nominal  Christians. 

In  the  Turkish  Empire,  however,  the  word  “Chris¬ 
tian”  does  not  necessarily  connote  any  particular 
moral  qualities  or  warmth  of  faith ;  for  the  reason 
that  every  one  has  some  religion.  In  many  respects 
the  government  is  administered,  not  according  to 
geographical  units,  but  through  the  various 
hierarchies ;  and  a  person  outside  of  any  church 
would  be  literally  an  outlaw.  If  a  man  is  not  a  Jew 
or  a  Moslem,  he  of  course  is  a  Christian.  He  may 
be  a  thief  and  a  liar:  he  may  be  a  paragon  of  all  the 
virtues.  But  he  is  a  “Christian”  simply  because  he 
was  born  into  a  Christian  family.  That  is  all.  A 
zealous  but  poorly  informed  American  evangelist 
was  once  preaching  to  a  Syrian  audience,  when  he 
asked  all  those  who  were  Christians  to  stand  up. 
Every  single  person  in  the  room  rose  to  his  feet.  Of 
course !  Did  the  man  think  that  he  was  preaching 
to  Moslems  or  Jews  ?  I  do  not  mean  for  a  moment 
to  imply  that  these  Syrians  are  hypocritical  in  the 
matter.  Not  at  all.  It  is  simply  that  the  word 
“Christian”  has  among  them  a  clearly  understood 
meaning  which  is  different  from  that  which  we  in  the 
West  associate  with  the  name.  And  I  imagine  that, 


3 


[33] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


under  similar  circumstances,  if  some  great,  terrible 
non-Christian  power  were  threatening  not  only  our 
faith  but  our  civilization,  every  American,  whatever 
his  state  of  personal  morality  or  the  fervency  of  his 
own  religious  belief,  would  feel  called  upon  to  enroll 
himself  among  those  who  were  fighting  the  forces  of 
heathendom,  for  the  preservation  of  a  Christian 
civilization. 

These  Christians  of  Palestine  are  divided  among 
twelve  or  fourteen  sects,  of  which  the  most  important 
are  the  Greek  Orthodox,  which  our  Catholics  know 
as  the  “Greek  Schismatic,”  and  the  Greek  Catholic, 
which  is  affiliated  with  the  Roman  (“Latin”) 
Church,  although  it  retains  some  ancient  Oriental 
privileges,  such  as  the  use  of  Arabic  in  the  ritual, 
the  administration  of  the  sacrament  in  both  kinds, 
and  a  married  priesthood.  Among  the  weaker  sects 
are  the  Armenian,  Coptic,  Abyssinian  and  Nestorian, 
each  of  which  is  divided  into  two  antagonistic 
branches,  affiliated  respectively  with  Western  and 
Eastern  Catholicism.  The  most  powerful  church 
is  the  Greek  Orthodox ;  and  throughout  this  book, 
when  the  word  “Greek”  is  used,  it  will  be  understood 
to  refer,  not  to  Greeks  by  birth,  but  to  the  adherents 
of  this  sect,  most  of  whom  in  Palestine  are  Syrians, 
although  many  of  the  clergy,  especially  among  the 
higher  ecclesiastics,  are  of  the  Greek  race. 

Besides  the  members  of  these  ancient  native 
churches,  and  the  “Orthodox”  Russian  monks  and 

[34] 


RACES  AND  RELIGIONS 


pilgrims,  there  are  a  few  thousand  native  Protestants 
connected  with  various  mission  stations,  and  a  mul¬ 
titude  of  monks  and  nuns  belonging  to  the  great 
Latin  orders. 

The  saddest  thing  which  attracts  the  notice  of  the 
visitor  to  Palestine  is  the  rivalry  and  hatred  mani¬ 
fested  between  the  adherents,  and  especially  between 
the  clergy,  of  the  different  Christian  bodies,  and 
the  frequent  exhibitions  of  petty  jealousy  or  open 
strife  which  take  place  before  the  contemptuous  gaze 
of  their  common  Moslem  oppressors.  Yet  the 
sympathetic  visitor  from  the  West  can  find  exten¬ 
uating  circumstances  which  may  cause  him  to 
be  less  bitter,  though  not  less  sad,  as  he  contemplates 
the  fierce,  fanatical  religious  animosities  of  “Chris- 
tian”  Palestine.  Everybody  in  western  Asia  is  proud 
of  his  religion ;  poor  fellow,  it  is  usually  the  only 
thing  of  which  he  can  be  proud.  There  is  no  national 
spirit;  no  possible  feeling  of  patriotism.*  The 
Syrian  knows  the  government  only  as  an  implacable 
power  which  taxes  and  cheats  and  robs  and  murders. 
Nobody  loves  the  Ottoman  Empire,  not  even  the  non- 
Turkish  Moslems.  And  so  the  spirit  of  patriotism 
which  in  us  finds  an  outlet  in  devotion  to  our  nation, 
in  Syria  finds  expression  in  loyalty  to  the  sect.  The 
Syrian  loves  his  church  as  we  love  our  country.  He 

*  Since  the  revolution  of  1909,  this  statement  happily  needs 
some  modification;  but  even  yet  there  is  no  such  united  loyalty 
to  race  and  nation  as  is  felt  in  nearly  every  Christian  land. 

[35] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


loves  his  church  and  hates  all  others.  If  he  is  a 
Catholic,  he  hates  the  Moslems  and  the  Protestants ; 
but  most  of  all,  he  hates  the  other  Catholic  com¬ 
munions.  He  gives  to  his  own  church  a  blind,  unrea¬ 
soning,  faithful  loyalty,  and  will  fight  for  it  with 
the  exalted  devotion  of  a  holy  Crusade. 

Properly  speaking,  the  Arabs  are  the  Bedouins 
whose  fatherland  is  the  peninsula  of  Arabia;  the 
nomadic  tribes  of  the  desert  and  steppe-land  who, 
like  Abraham  of  old,  scorn  to  live  in  houses  made 
with  hands.*  Their  long,  low  tents  of  black  goat- 
hair  cloth  are  pitched  outside  the  towns,  some¬ 
what  as  summer  camps  of  Gipsies  are  set 
up  on  the  edge  of  our  American  cities.  The 
tribes  which  are  seen  in  Palestine  are  as  a 
rule  small  ones,  with  from  four  to  twenty  tents. 
If  a  sheikh  is  very  rich,  his  home  will  be  divided  by 
hangings  of  goat-hair  cloth  into  three  compartments  ; 
for  the  men,  women  and  animals.  More  often,  how¬ 
ever,  there  will  be  only  two  rooms ;  one  for  the  men, 
and  the  other  for  the  women  and  the  animals,  who 
lodge  together !  The  Bedouin’s  wealth  is  in  the  herds 
of  cattle,  sheep,  goats  and  camels  which  constituted 


*  I  am  speaking  now  only  of  the  Arabs  of  Palestine;  for 
the  great  Arabic  world  stretches  from  the  Strait  of  Gibraltar 
(which,  by  the  way,  is  an  Arabic  name  meaning  the  “Moun¬ 
tain  of  Tarik”)  across  northern  Africa  to  Egypt,  Sinai, 
Arabia,  and  up  into  Mesopotamia;  and  in  many  places  there 
are  villages  and  even  cities  of  settled  Arabs,  who  are  always 
looked  down  upon,  however,  by  their  Bedouin  cousins. 

[36] 


One  of  the  long,  low,  black  goat-hair  tents  of  the  Bedouin  Arabs 


A  Bethlehem  Family 


RACES  AND  RELIGIONS 


the  possessions  of  Job.  One  tribe  will  quarrel  with 
another  over  pasture-lands  or  wells,  just  as  in  the 
days  when  Isaac’s  herdsmen  fought  with  the  herds¬ 
men  of  Abimelech  over  the  possession  of  the  wells  in 
the  valley  of  Gerar.  And  any  of  them  will  cheerfully 
rob  the  luckless  traveler  whom  gracious  Allah  deliv¬ 
ers  unprotected  into  his  clutches. 

Their  vices  and  their  virtues  (for  they  have  both) 
are  drawn  from  the  desert.  They  are  the  handsomest 
men  in  the  world,  these  Arabs ;  but  they  are  not  the 
cleanest.  In  reverend  demeanor  and  tactful  cour¬ 
tesy  they  surpass  the  most  cultured  gentlemen  of 
Europe;  but  they  are  notorious  thieves.  Their  hos¬ 
pitality  is  proverbial.  For  three  days  the  Arab  host 
will  protect  one  who  has  eaten  bread  and  salt  in  his 
tent,  even  to  dying  in  defense  of  his  guest.  When 
the  time-limit  of  the  salt-brotherhood  has  expired, 
the  host  will  feel  quite  free  to  rob  the  former  guest 
on  his  own  account.  Ordinarily  the  Arab  lives  on 
bread  and  milk,  or  bread  and  cheese.  If  a  guest  ar¬ 
rives,  he  will  insist  upon  slaughtering  the  choicest 
animal  in  his  flock.  If  there  is  no  food  at  all,  as 
frequently  happens,  the  Arab  starves  for  a  while. 

Indeed,  there  are  hundreds  of  thousands  of  Arabs, 
especially  in  the  Arabian  Peninsula,  who  never  to 
their  dying  day  know  what  it  is  to  have  a  regular 
supply  of  food.  Yet  these  lean,  half-starved  warriors 
need  only  to  have  their  petty  inter-tribal  rivalries 
submerged  in  the  fervor  of  a  Holy  War  to  become 

[37] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


one  of  the  most  formidable  armies  in  the  world. 
They  do  not  have  a  very  clear  idea  of  just  what 
Mohammedanism  is ;  but  they  will  fight  for  it  to  the 
death.  To-day,  when  the  Turkish  race  is  decaying, 
the  Arab  blood  is  the  best  in  all  Islam.  Shefket 
Pasha,  who  led  the  army  of  the  Young  Turks  into 
Constantinople  and  dethroned  the  infamous  tyrant 
Abdul  Hamid  II,  is  a  pure  Arab  from  Bagdad.  No¬ 
body  has  ever  really  conquered  this  proud,  free,  wan¬ 
dering  people,  from  the  days  when  their  flying  cav¬ 
alry  harassed  the  well-trained  Roman  legions,  to 
this  very  year,  when  the  desert  hordes  are  capturing 
the  border  fortresses  of  Turkey  on  the  eastern  edge 
of  Palestine,  beyond  the  Jordan  Valley.  And  some 
of  us  are  wondering  what  would  happen  to  the  Otto¬ 
man  Empire — and  perhaps  to  the  regions  beyond 
that — if  these  wild,  independent,  unconquerable  tribes 
of  Arabia  were  to  find  another  leader  like  Mohammed 
or  Khaled  or  Saladin,  who  could  hurl  them  as  a  dis¬ 
ciplined  army  against  the  hated  and  despised  forces 
of  the  degenerate  Turk. 


[38] 


IV 


The  oldest  church  in  the  worl® 


ONE  of  my  friends,  who  is  an  expert  agricul¬ 
turist,  was  examining  a  large  photograph 
of  the  hills  immediately  surrounding  Beth¬ 
lehem.  “What  a  bare,  treeless  country !”  he  ex¬ 
claimed. 

“Look  at  it  again,”  I  said.  “There  are  no  tall 
elm  trees  or  chestnut  woods  like  those  on  your  own 
estate.  But  look  again.” 

So  he  did;  and  before  I  let  him  lay  down  the 
photograph,  he  confessed  that  in  that  one  picture  of 
the  “treeless”  landscape  there  must  be  shown  at  least 
20,000  fruit  trees ! 

A  great  deal  depends  upon  one’s  standard  of  com¬ 
parison.  I  imagine  that  to  ninety-nine  travelers  out 
of  a  hundred,  Bethlehem  is  just  one  more  ill-paved, 
unkempt,  unsanitary  Oriental  city,  noisy  with  the 
shouts  of  an  unintelligible  jargon  and  crowded  with 
strangely  garbed,  fierce-looking  “Arabs.”  But  after 
you  have  become  somewhat  acquainted  with  modern 
Palestine,  that  same  Bethlehem  appears  noteworthy 
for  its  tone  of  prosperous  self-respect ;  its  inhabit¬ 
ants  possess  unusual  dignity;  the  men  are  sturdy 

[39] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


and  handsome  and  the  women  are  graceful  and  attrac¬ 
tive;  while  the  surrounding  country,  for  all  its  lack 
of  shade  trees,  reveals  considerable  fertility  and  quiet 
beauty. 

So  they  called  the  place  Bethlehem,  the  “House  of 
Bread.”  The  present  Arabic  name  is  essentially  the 
same,  Beit  Lahm;  but  the  meaning  has  curiously 
changed,  so  that  now  it  signifies  the  “House  of 
Meat”  Bread  or  meat,  the  name  is  still  a  well 
chosen  one  for  the  largest,  best-built  and  wealthiest 
Christian  town  in  southern  Palestine.  Its  present 
population  is  about  8,000,  practically  all  of  whom 
are  Christians.  Only  a  few  are  Moslems,  and  there 
are  said  to  be  no  Jewish  residents  at  all. 

The  town  lies  along  the  summit  of  a  ridge  which  is 
exactly  as  high  (2,500  feet)  as  the  highest  part  of 
Jerusalem ;  but,  like  Jerusalem,  Bethlehem  is  sur¬ 
rounded  by  slightly  loftier  hills,  so  that  you  do  not 
often  see  it  from  any  great  distance.  As  you  turn 
in  from  the  main  road  near  Rachel’s  Tomb,  however, 
and  climb  up  the  slope  of  Bethlehem’s  hill,  the  whole 
length  of  the  town  is  spread  out  before  you ;  its  white, 
block-like  houses,  with  flat  or  domed  roofs,  forming 
a  fairly  level  sky-line,  broken  at  the  left  by  the  cum¬ 
bersome  buildings  of  the  Church  of  the  Nativity, 
and  at  the  right  by  the  slender  white  spire  of  the 
German  Mission. 

The  heart  of  the  town  is  what  we  might  call  the 
Cathedral  Square,  in  front  of  the  Church  of  the 

r  40  ] 


THE  OLDEST  CHURCH  IN  THE  WORLD 


Nativity.  Even  in  the  summer-time  this  is  crowded 
with  a  ‘  bright-colored  and  talkative  assembly  of 
hucksters,  beggars,  soldiers,  monks  of  half  a  dozen 
orders,  groups  of  busy  gossips,  housewives  doing 
their  marketing,  loquacious  and  unreliable  guides 
hoping  against  hope  that  some  out-of-season  tourists 
will  drive  down  from  Jerusalem  to  the  City  of  David, 
and  innumerable  half-naked  urchins,  ready  for  any 
mischief  which  may  present  itself. 

The  dominant  color-note  in  the  scene  is  given  by 
the  singular  costume  of  the  women,  who  invariably 
wear  a  long,  white,  nun-like  headdress,  which  falls 
over  the  shoulders  and  almost  to  the  feet — as  though 
all  Bethlehem  women  belonged  to  some  Sisterhood  of 
the  Virgin.  And,  at  least  when  I  was  there,  the  most 
insistent  sound  was  the  chip,  chip,  chip  of  the  stone¬ 
masons’  chisels ;  for  new  buildings  seemed  to  be  in 
process  of  erection  on  nearly  every  street.  Indeed, 
some  of  the  narrower  alleys  were  almost  impassable 
on  account  of  the  piles  of  clean  white  limestone 
blocks. 

On  the  streets  opening  from  the  central  square  are 
curio  shops  and  little  factories  with  their  double 
doors  wide  open,  so  that  you  can  watch  the  workmen 
as  they  carve  trinkets  out  of  olive  wood,  all  of  which 
is  supposed  to  come  from  the  Mount  of  Olives,  or 
turn  vases  and  saucers  out  of  the  black,  bituminous 
“Moses-stone”  from  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea,  or 
cut  elaborate  bas-reliefs  of  sacred  scenes  on  the 

[41] 


I 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


*  4 


inner,  mother-of-pearl  surface  of  large  shells  which 
are  brought  from  the  Red  Sea.  Bethlehem  is  the 
chief  center  for  the  manufacture  of  such  souvenirs, 
which  are  carried  home  each  year  by  a  hundred  thou¬ 
sand  tourists  and  pilgrims,  and  which  are  also 
expprted  in  large  quantities  to  Europe  and  America. 

At  the  extreme  southeastern  end  of  the  town,  with 
its  main  entrance  from  the  public  square  and  its 
further  walls  looking  down  over  an  almost  precipitous 
hillside,  is  the  heavy,  confused  mass  of  the  Church 
of  the  Nativity.  The  original  structure  is  now  sur¬ 
rounded  by  other  churches  and  chapels  and  monas¬ 
teries  and  religious  schools ;  but  our  chief  interest  is, 
of  course,  in  the  central  sanctuary,  properly  called 
the  Church  of  St.  Mary. 

Tradition  says  that  this  was  built  in  the  year  326 
by  St.  Helena,  who  had  discovered  in  the  cave  beneath 
it  the  birthplace  of  Christ.  At  least,  it  is  practically 
certain  that  the  building  was  erected  some  time  dur¬ 
ing  the  reign  of  Helena’s  son,  the  Emperor  Constan¬ 
tine  the  Great,  probably  about  330  A.  D.  During  the 
sixteen  centuries  since  then,  there  have  of  necessity 
been  frequent  alterations  and  repairs ;  but  so  much 
of  the  original  structure  still  remains  that  this  must 
be  accounted  the  most  ancient  of  all  existing  church 
edifices,  the  oldest  Christian  house  of  worship  in  the 
world. 

Everyone  is  familiar  with  the  Biblical  references 
to  Bethlehem,  and  its  place  in  the  stories  of  Ruth  and 

[42] 


THE  OLDEST  CHURCH  IN  THE  WORLD 


David  and  Jesus.  It  is  perhaps  not  so  well  known, 
however,  that  since  then  there  have  been  dramatic 
incidents  in  connection  with  the  history  of  the  City 
of  David,  and  that  from  it  there  came  the  most 
important  and  influential  work  of  Christian  scholar¬ 
ship. 

I  have  already  referred  to  the  building  of  the 
church  by  the  Empress  Helena,  after  which  the  town 
became  a  very  famous  resort  for  pilgrims  and  devotees 
of  all  sorts.  Fifty  years  later,  the  name  of  another 
saintly  widow  was  linked  with  the  history  of  Bethle¬ 
hem;  for  here,  close  by  the  Church  of  the  Nativity, 
the  rich  and  noble  Roman  matron,  the  Lady  Paula, 
established  the  most  renowned  convent  of  all  the  early 
Christian  centuries.  In  connection  with  the  convent, 
she  also  maintained  a  hospice  where  were  entertained 
travelers  who  came  hither  from  the  outmost  confines 
of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  where,  more  than  once, 
poverty-stricken  refugees  from  the  troublous  districts 
in  Asia  Minor  and  Syria  found  a  welcome  shelter. 

The  greatest  thing  which  Paula  did,  however,  was 
to  care  for  the  learned  and  somewhat  unpractical 
Jerome,  who  came  with  her  to  Bethlehem  in  386  and 
dwelt  here  for  the  last  thirty-five  years  of  his  life. 
His  study,  so  they  say,  was  in  a  cave  adjoining  the 
Grotto  of  the  Nativity.  During  these  thirty-five 
years,  Jerome  became  known  as  the  greatest  living 
scholar,  and  the  town  of  his  adoption  was  conse¬ 
quently  the  literary  center  of  the  world,  so  that 

[43] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


students  from  all  over  Christendom  came  to  sit  at  the 
feet  of  the  wise  and  saintly  old  man. 

Jerome’s  literary  activity  was  enormous.  From  his 
humble  cell  at  Bethlehem  went  forth  commentaries, 
translations  of  the  Greek  Fathers,  controversial  ar¬ 
ticles,  and  a  widely-circulated  correspondence  which 
exerted  a  far-reaching  influence  upon  the  religious 
world  of  that  day.  But  from  the  viewpoint  of  later 
centuries,  all  his  other  work  is  relatively  insignificant 
in  comparison  with  his  revision  of  the  Latin  Bible, 
which  has  since  been  known  as  the  “Vulgate.”  It 
was  in  Bethlehem  that  there  was  born  the  most  famous 
of  all  translations  of  Scriptures,  and  it  was  under  the 
affectionate  care  of  a  woman;  for  it  is  hard  to  believe 
that  Jerome  could  have  lived  so  long  and  studied  so 
indefatigably  without  the  wise  and  tender  oversight 
of  the  Lady  Paula. 

During  the  centuries  of  Moslem  rule,  the  city  of 
Bethlehem  suffered  from  fire  and  pillage,  but  the 
church  never  received  serious  damage,  though  it  was 
so  often  in  imminent  danger  that  a  whole  series  of 
legends  have  sprung  up  to  explain  its  miraculous 
escapes.  When  the  Crusading  armies  conquered 
the  Holy  Land,  it  was  in  this  ancient  church,  at  the 
birthplace  of  the  Saviour,  on  Christmas  Day  of  the 
year  1101,  that  Count  Baldwin  of  Flanders  was 
crowned  the  first  Christian  king  of  Palestine.  Taking 
into  account  the  place,  the  day,  the  congregation  of 
noble  warriors,  and  the  significance  of  the  fact  that 

[44] 


THE  OLDEST  CHURCH  IN  THE  WORLD 


now  at  last  the  Holy  Sepulchre  was  wrested  from 
Moslem  hands  and  the  Crusading  banners  waved  over 
the  sacred  hills,  this  Christmas  coronation  must  have 
been  one  of  the  most  solemn  and  dramatic  events  in 
all  history.* 

There  are  armed  soldiers  in  the  church  to-day; 
but  alas,  they  are  Turkish  soldiers,  garrisoned  here 
to  keep  peace  among  the  antagonistic  Christian  sects, 
each  of  which  is  very  jealous  that  it  may  have  its  full 
share  of  the  honor  of  caring  for  the  birthplace  of  the 
Prince  of  Peace.  Indeed,  the  spark  which  started 
the  Crimean  War  was  one  of  the  frequent  conflicts 
between  the  Greek  and  Latin  monks  in  the  Church 
of  the  Nativity. 

Entering  the  single  central  doorway,  which  was 
made  very  low  and  small  in  the  days  when  the  Chris¬ 
tian  defenders  had  to  stand  frequent  sieges  by  Moslem 
mobs,  we  see  the  plain,  sombre  interior.  Double  rows 
of  columns  on  each  side  separate  the  nave  from  the 
aisles;  but  all  alike  are  bare  of  furniture  or  decora¬ 
tion,  except  that  underneath  the  high,  small  windows 
can  still  be  seen  some  badly  mutilated  mosaics  placed 
there  by  the  Byzantine  emperor  Manuel  Comnenos 
in  the  twelfth  century.  Across  the  farther  end  of  the 
nave  and  aisles  is  a  strong  stone  wall,  about  twenty 
feet  high,  which  was  intended  to  serve  as  an  inner 
fortification,  in  case  an  attacking  party  should  force 


*  See  further  the  author’s  “The  Christmas  City:  Bethlehem 
Across  the  Ages.” 


[45] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


its  way  through  the  little  entrance  door  into  the 
church  itself. 

The  partition  wall  is  pierced  by  three  doors  giving 
access  to  the  transepts  and  choir,  which,  in  startling 
contrast  to  the  nave,  are  brilliantly  lighted  and  are 
profusely  adorned  with  holy  pictures  and  ornamental 
lamps  and  gaudy  tapestries.  On  each  side  of  the 
altar  a  narrow  flight  of  steps  leads  down  to  the  sacred 
caves  beneath  the  church. 

There  are  six  of  these  underground  chambers,  con¬ 
nected  one  with  the  other  by  narrow  passageways. 
The  first  and  holiest,  the  Chapel  of  the  Nativity,  is  a 
fairly  regular  oblong  chamber,  forty  feet  long,  twelve 
feet  wide  and  about  ten  feet  high.  At  the  eastern 
end,  between  the  two  stairways,  is  a  recess  in  the  wall, 
richly  decorated  with  marbles  and  mosaics  and  heavy 
altar-cloths  and  hung  around  with  fifteen  lamps  of 
precious  metal.  Here  is  the  Altar  of  the  Nativity, 
the  heart  of  the  caves,  the  reason  for  the  ancient 
church  above,  and  for  sixteen  centuries  the  object  of 
the  reverent  adoration  of  the  whole  Christian  world. 
Under  the  altar  there  is  let  into  the  floor  of  the  recess 
a  silver  star  with  the  inscription  Hie  de  Virgine 
Maria  Jesus  Christus  natus  est — “Here  Jesus  Christ 
was  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary.” 

As  we  face  down  the  cave  from  the  Altar  of  the 
Nativity,  just  at  our  left  is  a  somewhat  larger  recess 
called  the  Chapel  of  the  Manger,  which  contains  a 
marble  shelf  with  a  wax  doll  laid  on  it,  and  also  the 

[46] 


THE  OLDEST  CHURCH  IN  THE  WORLD  ] 


Altar  of  the  Adoration  of  the  Magi.  At  the  other 
end  of  the  cave  there  is  pointed  out  a  round  hole  in 
the  wall,  from  which  water  is  said  to  have  miracu¬ 
lously  burst  forth  for  the  use  of  the  Holy  Family. 

Here  a  narrow  passage  leads  abruptly  to  the  right 
to  the  second  cave,  where  the  angel  is  said  to  have 
appeared  to  Joseph,  commanding  him  to  flee  into 
Egypt.  The  third  cave  is  the  Chapel  of  the  Inno¬ 
cents  where,  according  to  a  late  tradition,  Herod’s 
soldiers  slew  several  babies  whose  mothers  had  hid 
them  here  for  safety.  A  recess  in  the  next  passage¬ 
way  contains  the  altar  and  reputed  tomb  of  Eusebius 
of  Cremona,  who  was  one  of  the  pupils  of  Jerome. 
In  the  wall  of  the  neighboring  cave  is  shown  the 
sepulchre  of  the  saint  himself,  as  well  as  the  tombs 
of  his  pupils  and  protectors,  Paula  and  her  daughter 
Eustochium ;  but  the  supposed  locations  of  these  last 
three  burial-places  have  been  changed  more  than  once 
during  comparatively  recent  years. 

The  last  cave,  and  the  largest  except  the  Chapel 
of  the  Nativity,  is  believed  to  have  been  the  study  of 
St.  Jerome.  It  may  really  have  been.  It  is  the  best 
finished  of  the  caves,  the  rock  walls  are  covered  with 
a  layer  of  stone,  and  there  is  a  little  window  looking 
towards  the  cloisters  of  the  adjoining  monastery, 
which  was  once  reached  by  a  stairway  (now  closed) 
directly  from  the  cell.  It  seems  that  such  an  intensely 
devout  student  as  Jerome  would  have  been  very  likely 
to  choose  to  pursue  his  Biblical  studies,  and  especially 

[47] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


to  prosecute  his  great  work  of  translating  the  Scrip¬ 
tures,  in  some  such  place  as  this,  long  hallowed  by 
sacred  associations  and  so  close  to  the  scene  of 
the  Nativity. 

But  is  it  true — the  inscription  that  runs  around 
the  Silver  Star  yonder?  The  Moslem  guard  who 
stands  beside  the  altar  would  answer,  Allah  bya'rif — 
“God  knows  !”  People  have  certainly  thought  it  true 
for  a  very  long  while.  And  indeed,  among  the  rocky 
hills  of  Palestine,  natural  caverns  are  still  not  infre¬ 
quently  used  as  stables.  Remember  that  this  par¬ 
ticular  church  has  marked  the  spot  since  the  early 
part  of  the  fourth  century.  In  the  third  century, 
Origen  speaks  of  the  location  of  the  cavern  and  the 
manger  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  common  knowledge. 
And  even  in  the  second  century,  Justin  Martyr 
states  that  Christ  was  born  in  a  cave.  No  line  of 
Christian  evidence  runs  much  further  back  than  that, 
except  in  the  New  Testament  itself. 

It  may  be  so.  Yet  the  air  is  so  heavy  with  incense 
and  the  walls  of  the  cave  so  overlaid  with  rich,  taste¬ 
less  ornamentation  that  it  is  hard  to  realize  here  the 
beautiful  simplicity  of  the  Gospel  story ;  and  yonder 
by  the  Silver  Star  stands  the  Turkish  soldier  with 
loaded  rifle  and  fixed  bayonet,  a  grim  reminder  of  the 
smouldering  fires  of  sectarian  jealousy  which,  but  for 
him,  would  burst  forth  still  more  frequently  into 
murderous  strife  over  the  very  memorials  of  the 
Saviour’s  birth. 


[48] 


Bethlehem.  The  Church  of  the  Nativity  is  at  the  extreme  left 


The  choir  of  the  Church  of  the  Nativity,  showing  the  entrance  to  the  sacred  caves 


THE  OLDEST  CHURCH  IN  THE  WORLD 


It  may  indeed  be  so.  But  as  many  a  reverent 
visitor  climbs  up  the  little  stairs  from  the  heavy  dusk 
of  the  holy  cave  into  the  dazzling  glare  of  the  gaudy 
church,  he  sighs,  “That  may  be  the  place  where 
Christ  was  born.  But  I  hope  not !” 

One  summer  evening  we  went  from  the  Church  of 
the  Nativity  to  the  beautiful  white  chapel  of  the 
German  Mission.  There  are  many  Germans  in  Pales¬ 
tine  to-day..  Their  five  or  six  little  groups  of  farms 
represent  the  nearest  approach  to  any  kind  of  suc¬ 
cessful  colonization  of  the  Holy  Land.  The  German 
hotels  are  to  the  tired  traveler  as  the  shadow  of  a 
great  rock  in  a  weary  land;  and  the  German  peasant 
homes,  German  missions,  German  hospitals  and 
placid,  saintly  German  “sisters”  are  about  the  most 
clean,  cool,  wholesome,  godly  things  to  be  found 
amid  all  the  feverish  rivalry  and  crass  idolatry  of 
modern  Palestine.  Since  I  have  been  in  the  land  of 
the  Bible,  I  have  more  sympathy  with  those  quaint 
mediaeval  paintings  which  represent  the  Madonna  with 
pronounced  Teutonic  features. 

So  we  left  the  clamor  and  nervous  bustle  of  the 
Bethlehem  bazaars,  and  the  thickly  scented  air  of  the 
ancient  cathedral,  and  went  at  sunset  to  the  cool, 
quiet  little  German  church — the  “Christmas  church,” 
they  call  it — and  there  we  sat  and  watched  the  night 
shadows  lengthen  between  the  clean  white  columns 
while,  just  for  us,  the  sweet-faced  sister  played  on 

[49] 


4 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


the  organ  the  tender  melody  of  “Stille  Nacht,  Heilige 
Nacht.” 

No  matter  in  which  particular  cavern-stable  the 
Christ  Child  may  have  been  laid !  Here,  in  the  midst 
of  peace  and  love  and  self-devotion,  we  found  the  real 
heart  of  the  Christmas  City. 


[50] 


V 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  MACHPELAH 

WHILE  I  do  not  retract  what  was  said  in  an 
earlier  chapter  about  the  safety  of  travel  in 
Palestine,  it  should  be  added  that,  when 
visiting  the  city  of  Hebron,  the  tourist  should  be 
accompanied  by  a  dragoman  (courier),  and  should 
exercise  more  than  usual  care  to  avoid  offending  the 
sensibilities  of  the  Moslem  inhabitants,  who  are 
notorious  for  their  fanaticism  and  insolence.  My 
friend  and  I  had  some  extra  seats  in  our  carriage,  so 
we  invited  two  young  Jerusalem  acquaintances  to 
accompany  us  on  our  trip  to  Hebron;  and  we  were 
surprised  to  find  that  these  boys,  though  born  in 
Palestine  and  speaking  fluent  Arabic,  did  not  want 
to  walk  through  the  city  streets  until  they  had  found 
a  friendly  Moslem  to  accompany  our  party.  Even 
then  we  met  with  black  looks  and  muttered  curses. 

No  traveler  should  think  for  a  moment  of  omitting 
this  ancient  city  from  his  itinerary:  even  ladies  jour¬ 
neying  without  male  escorts  must  surely  go  to 
Hebron.  But  the  stranger  must  walk  somewhat  cir¬ 
cumspectly,  and  must  avoid  any  appearance  of  irrev¬ 
erence  or  levity,  when  visiting  the  holy  places. 

[51] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


Indeed,  it  would  be  a  very  light-minded  person  who 
could  be  guilty  of  irreverence  in  face  of  the  vast 
antiquity  and  sacred  history  of  Hebron.  Both  Jews 
and  Moslems  count  it  as  one  of  the  four  sacred  cities 
of  the  world,  which,  according  to  the  Jews,  are  Safed, 
Tiberias,  Jerusalem,  Hebron;  according  to  the  Mos¬ 
lems,  Mecca,  Medina,  Jerusalem,  Hebron.  It  is 
probably  the  oldest  city  in  Palestine;  for  it  is  said 
(Numbers  13:22)  to  have  been  built  seven  years 
before  ancient  Zoan  (Tanis)  in  Egypt.  Josephus, 
writing  over  1,800  years  ago,  reckoned  the  age  of 
Hebron  then  to  be  2,300  years ;  and  for  once  the 
enthusiastic  Jewish  historian  may  have  made  his 
figures  too  small.  An  old  tradition  says  that  Adam 
died  here,  and  many  mediaeval  travelers  speak  of 
having  seen  his  tomb.  His  footprint  is  still  shown  in 
a  slab  preserved  within  the  sacred  enclosure.  Some 
say,  however,  that  the  footprint  is  that  of  Mohammed. 

Coming  from  legends  to  facts,  it  is  certain  that 
there  was  a  heathen  sanctuary  at  Hebron  long  before 
the  Hebrews  entered  Canaan.  Outside  of  the  city 
were  pitched  the  tents  of  the  great  Bedouin  sheikh 
Abraham.  Here  Isaac  was  born,  and  Sarah  died, 
and  the  patriarchs  were  buried.  Here  dwelt  the 
gigantic  Sons  of  Anak,  whose  prowess  struck  such 
terror  to  the  hearts  of  the  timorous  Hebrew  tribes 
encamped  at  Kadesh-barnea.  Hither  Samson  brought 
the  gates  of  the  Philistine  city  of  Gaza.  Here  David 
reigned  over  Judah  seven  and  a  half  years,  until  he 

[52] 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  MACHPELAH 


was  here  anointed  king  over  all  Israel;  and  here  the 
traitor  Absalom  plotted  rebellion  against  his  royal 
father. 

During  the  troublous  years  just  before  and  after 
the  beginning  of  our  era,  civil  war  often  raged 
around  the  city,  and  the  stronghold  was  captured  and 
recaptured  by  Edomite  raiders  and  Jewish  patriots 
and  Roman  legions.  From  the  seventh  to  the  eleventh 
centuries,  Hebron  was  under  Moslem  rule.  Then  the 
Crusaders  held  it  for  almost  a  hundred  years,  until 
in  1187  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  great  Saladin, 
since  when  it  has  remained  in  undisputed  possession 
of  the  Moslems. 

The  name  of  the  city  has  changed,  too,  with  its 
changing  masters.  First  it  was  called  Kiriath-arba, 
or  “Four-town”  (compare  Tripoli,  which  means 
“Three-town”).  The  Hebrews  knew  it  as  Hebron, 
which  signifies  “Association”  or  “Confederation.” 
The  Crusaders  referred  to  it  as  “The  Castle  of  St. 
Abraham.”  The  Moslems,  who  speak  of  Abraham  as 
“the  Friend  of  God”  (compare  James  £:23),  have 
named  after  the  patriarch  this  city  of  his  adoption, 
which  is  usually  called  simply  el-Khalil — “the 
Friend.” 

The  valley  of  Hebron,  which  runs  from  northwest 
to  southeast,  is  fertile  and  well  cultivated.  The  city 
itself  lies  in  the  neck  of  the  valley,  at  an  elevation  of 
over  3,000  feet  above  the  sea.  The  houses  string 
along  the  north  side  of  the  highroad  for  about  a  mile 

[53] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


and,  at  the  lower  end  of  town,  cluster  thickly  together 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  great  mosque  and  the 
public  reservoir.  This  last,  like  the  largest  pool  at 
Jerusalem,  is  called  the  Birket  es-Sultdn.  It  is  prob¬ 
ably  the  same  “pool  in  Hebron”  beside  which  David 
caused  to  be  hanged  the  hands  and  feet  of  the  mur¬ 
derers  of  Ish-bosheth;  for  the  gruesome  warnings 
would  naturally  be  posted  in  the  most  frequented 
part  of  the  city,  which,  in  Palestine,  is  always  the 
square  by  the  public  reservoir  or  fountain. 

As  has  been  ’intimated,  the  eighteen  or  twenty 
thousand  inhabitants  of  Hebron  are  nearly  all  Mos¬ 
lems,  and  of  a  very  fanatical  type.  Some  fifteen 
hundred  poverty-stricken  Jews  live  across  the  road 
from  the  main  town,  and  cultivate  their  little  vine¬ 
yards,  and  step  very  softly  in  the  presence  of  their 
Moslem  rulers.  Of  native  Christians,  there  are  none 
at  all. 

Hebron  is  the  largest  city  south  of  Jerusalem  and, 
in  spite  of  its  great  age,  it  is  a  busy,  modern  manu¬ 
facturing  town — that  is,  for  Palestine.  The  houses 
are  mostly  well-built  and  two  stories  in  height,  which 
is  not  usual  in  this  part  of  the  country.  Almost 
every  house — indeed,  almost  every  room — is  sur¬ 
mounted  by  a  dome.  Even  the  flat  roofs,  and  the 
floors  of  the  second  stories,  are  levelled  over  domed 
ceilings  beneath ;  because  wood  for  building  purposes 
is  very  rare  and  expensive.  There  are  few  places  in 
Palestine  where  there  are  trees  large  enough  and 

[54] 


Hebron,  showing  the  ancient  pool  and  the  Haram  with  its  two  minarets 


The  stairway  leading  to  the  Hebron  Haram 


■ 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  MACHPELAH 


straight  enough  to  cut  into  heavy  timbers,  and  a  con¬ 
siderable  proportion  of  the  imports,  therefore,  con¬ 
sists  of  lumber  and,  latterly,  iron  girders. 

The  manufactures  and  trade  of  Hebron  have  long 
been  famous.  Glass-making  has  been  an  important 
industry  here  ever  since  the  Middle  Ages ;  and  there 
are  large  tanneries  which  manufacture  water-bottles 
made  out  of  the  whole  hides  of  goats.  The  mer¬ 
chants  of  the  place  are  very  enterprising.  They  not 
only  carry  on  a  large  business  all  over  southern  Pal¬ 
estine,  but  travel  eastward  far  across  the  Jordan, 
and  have  warehouses  on  the  edge  of  the  desert,  from 
which  they  supply  the  wandering  Arab  tribes. 

Long  centuries  ago,  while  one  of  the  friendly  tribes 
of  Bedouin  shepherds  from  Mesopotamia  was  winter¬ 
ing  on  the  edge  of  Hebron,  the  sheikh’s  wife  died, 
and  the  bereaved  chief  bought  from  one  of  the  towns¬ 
men  a  small  field,  with  trees  in  it  and  with  a  natural 
cavern,  which  he  could  use  as  a  sepulchre  for  his 
dead.  “So  Abraham  buried  Sarah  his  wife  in  the 
cave  of  the  field  of  Machpelah,  east  of  Mamre  (the 
same  is  Hebron).  And  the  field,  and  the  cave  that  is 
therein,  were  deeded  to  Abraham  by  the  Hittites  for 
a  burying  place.” 

To-day  that  cave  is  not  only  one  of  the  most  an¬ 
cient  and  sacred  of  sepulchres ;  it  presents  one  of  the 
most  baffling  problems  which  confront  the  Biblical 
archaeologist. 


[55] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


The  genuineness  of  the  traditional  burial-place  of 
the  patriarchs  at  Hebron  is  better  attested  than  that 
of  any  other  holy  place  in  Palestine  of  commensurate 
importance,  and  thousands  of  American  tourists  have 
stood  almost  within  arm’s  length  of  Abraham’s  tomb; 
but,  so  far  as  we  know,  no  man  now  living  has  ever 
stepped  within  that  cavern  sepulchre.  The  Moslems 
guard  it,  but  no  Moslem  dares  enter  it;  not  even 
the  governor  of  Jerusalem.  Perhaps  no  spot  on  earth 
possesses  such  a  combination  of  hoary  antiquity,  re¬ 
ligious  interest  and  fascinating  mystery. 

The  massive,  fortress-like  structure  which  com¬ 
pletely  encloses  the  rock  of  the  cave  is  by  far  the 
most  prominent  object  in  Hebron;  yet  history  is 
strangely  silent  as  to  when  or  by  whom  these  great 
stone  walls  were  erected.  Architecturally,  they  seem 
to  belong  to  the  period  of  Herod.  They  may,  how¬ 
ever,  be  much  older  than  that.  According  to  one 
tradition,  the  jinns  (demons)  built  them.  The  an¬ 
cient  ramparts  of  hard,  gray  limestone  are  197  feet 
long,  111  feet  wide  and  in  places  40  feet  high.  Some 
of  the  stones  are  very  large ;  one  measures  over 
twenty-four  feet  in  length.  Above  this  imposing  and 
well-built  structure  rises  another,  comparatively  mod¬ 
em  wall,  which  is  plastered,  whitewashed  and  ugly. 
At  diagonally  opposite  comers  of  the  quadrangle  are 
lofty  minarets,  and  along  the  short  sides  flights  of 
stone  steps  lead  to  a  long  open  gallery  between  the 
inner  and  outer  walls,  and  thence  to  the  interior  plat- 

[56] 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  MACHPELAH 


form,  which  is  about  eighteen  feet  above  the  lowest 
ground  immediately  adjoining  the  structure. 

But  when  you  visit  Hebron,  you  will  not  go  up 
either  of  these  stairways ;  for  no  “infidel”  may  as¬ 
cend  them.  Near  the  bottom  of  one  flight  is  a  hole 
in  the  wall,  about  the  size  of  a  man’s  arm,  which  is 
said  to  lead  into  the  sepulchre  itself.  Here  the  poor 
Jews  of  Hebron  gather  on  Friday  evenings,  at  the 
beginning  of  their  Sabbath,  and  weep  and  lament, 
as  they  do  at  the  Wailing  Place  in  Jerusalem. 
Often  they  write  letters  to  “Father  Abraham,”  which 
they  drop  through  this  opening  into  his  sepulchre. 
Christians  are  allowed  to  ascend  as  far  as  the  seventh 
step  on  the  southeast  stairway ;  but  to  attempt  to  go 
farther  than  this  would  result  in  being  beaten,  and 
possibly  killed,  by  the  fanatical  custodians  of  the 
mosque.  When  I  even  rested  my  foot  on  the  eighth 
step,  the  crowd  around  me  began  to  scowl  and  mutter, 
and  the  Moslem  friend  who  was  with  me  seemed  very 
anxious  to  hurry  me  away.  I  have  never  felt  more 
baffled  and  tantalized  than  when  I  stood  there,  so 
close  to  the  inviting  steps  and  the  massive,  mysterious 
walls,  which,  alas,  have  been  for  more  than  seven 
hundred  years  hardm — sacred — forbidden — to  me 
and  to  all  the  Western  world! 

There  have,  however,  been  a  few  extraordinary  ex¬ 
ceptions  to  the  rule  excluding  non-Moslems.  The 
first  of  modern  Christians  to  enter  the  sacred  en¬ 
closure  was  Edward  VII,  then  Prince  of  Wales,  who 

[57] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


visited  the  Hebron  Haram  in  the  year  1862,  accom¬ 
panied  by  a  small  retinue,  which  included  Dean  Stan¬ 
ley,  to  whom  we  owe  the  first  clear  description  of  the 
interior.  It  was  exceedingly  difficult  for  even  the 
heir  to  the  British  throne  to  obtain  the  coveted  per¬ 
mission,  which  was  finally  granted  only  after  lengthy 
negotiations,  in  the  course  of  which  the  tremendous 
influence  of  Great  Britain  was  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  Turkish  officials.  The  governor  of  Jerusalem 
seems  to  have  been  sincerely  concerned  for  the  safety 
of  the  young  prince;  and  his  route  to  Hebron  was 
guarded  by  thousands  of  Turkish  soldiers,  who  at 
places  stood  literally  elbow  to  elbow,  for  fear  some 
fanatical  Moslem  might  attempt  to  kill  the  sacrile¬ 
gious  “infidel.”  As  a  further  precaution,  the  towns¬ 
folk  were  apparently  forbidden  to  leave  their  houses 
or  even  to  stand  by  the  windows,  for  the  prince’s 
party  rode  through  dead,  deserted  streets  to  the  holy 
enclosure.  When  Albert  Edward  entered  the  shrine 
of  Abraham,  the  chief  custodian  of  the  mosque  ex¬ 
claimed,  “The  prince  of  any  other  nation  should  have 
passed  over  my  dead  body  sooner  than  enter  here !” 

Since  1862,  on  a  few  other  occasions,  about  half  a 
dozen  in  all,  very  distinguished  Franks  have  been 
allowed  to  visit  the  Haram.  In  1882,  the  princes 
Albert  Victor  and  George  (now  King  George)  fol¬ 
lowed  in  their  father’s  footsteps ;  and  among  Ameri¬ 
cans  to  be  thus  favored  were  our  ministers  to  Turkey, 
Terrill  and  Lew  Wallace,  accompanied  respectively 

[58] 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  MACHPELAH 


bj  my  friends,  Dr.  Henry  Otis  Dwight,  then  of  Con¬ 
stantinople,*  and  the  late  Consul-general  Merrill,  of 
Jerusalem. 

The  southeast  end  of  the  quadrangle  is  entirely 
taken  up  by  a  mosque,  whose  gabled  roof  can  be 
seen  rising  above  the  exterior  wall  of  the  Haram. 
In  front  of  the  mosque  a  four-arched  porch  opens 
into  a  small  court,  which  is  the  only  unroofed  part 
of  the  sacred  enclosure.  Beyond  this  court  are  a 
number  of  small,  irregular  rooms. 

The  mosque,  like  so  many  others  in  Palestine,  was 
originally  a  Christian  church,  built  by  the  Crusa¬ 
ders  in  the  twelfth  century.  It  is  about  seventy  feet 
long  by  ninety  wide,  and  is  Gothic  in  architecture. 
Four  large  clustered  columns  support  the  groined 
roof  and  separate  the  nave  from  the  low,  broad 
aisles.  The  floor  of  the  mosque  is  covered  with  Turk¬ 
ish  rugs.  The  walls  are  overlaid  with  marble  to  a 
height  of  six  feet,  above  which  runs  an  ornamental 
band  of  intricately  interwoven  Arabic  inscriptions. 
The  columns  are  whitewashed  and  their  capitals  are 
painted  yellow ;  so  that,  as  in  almost  every  Moslem 
sanctuary,  the  general  effect  is  of  tawdry  and  care¬ 
less  disrepair,  with  all  the  beauty  of  the  structure 
concentrated  on  a  few  of  the  most  holy  spots. 

In  the  center  of  the  southeast  wall,  toward  the 


*  I  am  indebted  to  Dr.  Dwight  for  permission  to  reproduce 
his  rare  photograph  of  the  interior  of  the  Hebron  mosque. 

[59] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


r 


) 


R00M3 


OPEN  COURT 


ip<t 

Pr*y«rR«e*»a 


holy  city  of  Mecca,  is  the  highly  decorated  mihraby 
or  prayer-recess,  to  the  right  of  which  rises  the  tall 
pulpit,  with  its  domed  canopy.  Near  the  center  of 

the  building  ( at 
the  extreme  left 
of  the  photo- 
g  r  a  ph  )  is  the 
large  platform 
from  which  the 
Koran  is  publicly 
read ;  and  at  the 
sides  of  the  nave 
are  the  shrines  of 
Isaac  and  Re¬ 
becca,  with  their 
walls  of  striped 
brown  and  red 
stone,  their  win¬ 
dows  barred  with 
metal  grill-work, 
and  their  slant¬ 
ing  roofs  covered 
with  heavy  cloths. 

Not  counting  the 
so-called  Tomb  of 

Joseph,  which  lies  outside  the  Haram  proper,  six  cen¬ 
otaphs,  or  formal  tombs,  of  the  patriarchs  and  their 
wives  are  arranged  in  pairs,  about  equidistantly  along 
the  length  of  the  quadrangle,  and  are  believed  by  the 


RniTAncc 


M  U  E 

'  Petdinf  Platform 

♦/ 


I  I  3 hrinao 


MINAKBT 


The  Hebron  Mosque.  The  broken  lines 
show  the  portion  included  in  the  photo¬ 
graph  of  the  interior 


[60] 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  MACHPELAH 


Moslems  to  be  placed  each  exactly  over  the  real 
tomb  in  the  cave  beneath.  The  cenotaphs  of  Jacob 
and  Leah  are  in  two  of  the  small  chambers  at  the 
northwest  end.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Rachel  was 
buried  on  the  way  to  Bethlehem.  The  monuments  to 
Abraham  and  Sarah  are  in  octagonal  chapels  in  the 
porch.  Only  the  shrines  of  Isaac  and  Rebecca  are 
within  the  mosque  proper. 

It  seems  strange  to  us  that  Isaac  should  be  thus 
honored  above  his  great  father;  but  the  Moslems  ex¬ 
plain  that,  while  Abraham  was  kindly  and  forgiving, 
as  was  shown  by  his  intercessions  on  behalf  of  wicked 
Sodom,  his  son  Isaac  was  of  a  very  hot-tempered  and 
jealous  disposition,  and  would  cause  trouble  if  he 
were  not  given  the  best  place — which  is  in  peculiar 
contradiction  to  the  Biblical  description  of  the  gentle, 
thoughtful  shepherd  prince. 

Because  of  this  irascible  disposition  of  Isaac,  it  is 
thought  better  for  even  Moslems  to  avoid  entering  his 
shrine;  and  it  is  related  that  when  Ibrahim  Pasha, 
the  Egyptian  conqueror  of  Palestine,  attempted  to 
go  into  the  holy  place,  he  was  driven  out  by  the  en¬ 
raged  patriarch.  Christian  visitors  have  been  allowed 
to  inspect  the  shrines  of  Abraham  and  Jacob  (after 
a  fervent  prayer  by  the  custodians  that  the  great 
men  would  pardon  the  intrusion),  but  it  was  not  con¬ 
sidered  proper  for  men  to  enter  the  sanctuaries  of 
the  women. 

The  interiors  of  all  the  shrines  can  be  seen,  how- 

[61] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


ever,  through  the  barred  windows.  The  inside  walls 
are  cased  with  marble  and  ornamented  with  gilt  in¬ 
scriptions  in  Arabic  script.  Lamps  hang  here  and 
there.  Copies  of  the  Koran  lie  on  low  supports. 
Banners  rest  against  some  of  the  cenotaphs,  which 
are  coffin-shaped  and  covered  with  richly  embroid¬ 
ered  cloths,  green  (the  Moslem  holy  color)  for  the 
men  and  crimson  for  the  women. 

But  all  that  has  thus  far  been  described  is  above 
ground ;  for  the  Moslems  hold  the  burial-place  of  the 
patriarchs  in  such  awe  that  even  they  do  not  dare 
enter  the  real  sepulchre  which  presumably  lies  be¬ 
neath  the  mosque.  They  say  that  2,500  years  ago  a 
servant  of  a  great  king  ventured  within  the  awful 
precincts.  He  went  in,  a  perfectly  healthy  man  and 
of  unusual  corpulence:  he  came  out  shortly  after¬ 
wards  blind,  deaf,  emaciated  and  crippled.  Thus  do 
the  patriarchs  punish  impertinent  intruders  upon 
their  chosen  seclusion ! 

There  are  probably  several  small  openings  from  the 
mosque  to  the  cave,  though  those  in  the  floor  are  now 
hidden  by  rugs.  But  near  the  front  wail  of  the  build¬ 
ing  (at  c  in  the  plan)  is  a  stone  like  a  well-curb,  with 
a  circular  opening  a  foot  in  diameter,  below  which  a 
somewhat  larger  shaft  leads  down  into  a  lower  room, 
about  twelve  feet  square.*  The  floor  of  this  room, 

*  Dr.  Dwight  informs  me,  however,  that  when  his  party  visited 
the  Haram,  they  were  not  shown  the  opening  at  c  at  all;  but 
were  allowed  to  look  through  a  hole  in  the  floor  (6)  at  the 

[62] 


Interior  of  the  Mosque  of  Machpelah.  (See  the  plan  on  page  60) 


Moslems  of  Palestine 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  MACHPELAH 


which  is  at  about  a  level  with  the  ground  outside  the 
enclosure,  is  strewn  with  sheets  of  paper  containing 
petitions  to  the  patriarchs,  and  shows  evidences  of 
being  periodically  cleaned  by  the  keepers  of  the 
mosque.  It  is  apparently  an  antechamber  to  the 
cave;  for  in  one  of  its  whitewashed  walls  is  a  little 
doorway. 

What  lies  beyond  that  door  will  doubtless  remain 
a  mystery  as  long  as  the  Moslems  govern  Palestine. 
The  custodians  say  that  there  is  a  cavern  consisting 
of  two  chambers ;  and  we  are  reminded  that  the  name 
Machpelah  apparently  means  “double.”  But  what 
will  the  travelers  of  some  future  generation  see  when 
they  finally  penetrate  the  gloom  of  that  ancient  tomb  P 
Is  it  true,  as  old  Rabbi  Benjamin  of  Tudela  wrote 
seven  hundred  years  ago,  that  six  tombs  are  there, 
arranged  in  pairs,  and  that  one  of  these  bears  the 
inscription,  “This  is  the  sepulchre  of  our  father 
Abraham,  upon  whom  be  peace”?  Would  it  be  pos¬ 
sible  for  the  mummy  of  Jacob,  which  was  embalmed 
in  Egypt  before  it  was  carried  hither  for  burial,  to 
withstand  the  ravages  of  time  in  the  damper  climate 
of  Palestine,  until  at  last  ipen  shall  look  upon  the 
very  countenance  of  the  “Prince  of  God,”  as  they 


other  end  of  the  mosque,  alongside  the  pulpit.  This  was  said 
to  lead  directly  into  the  cave;  but  nothing  could  be  distin¬ 
guished  below,  on  account  of  the  dazzling  light  of  a  lamp  which 
hung  in  the  shaft.  The  patriarchs,  according  to  the  custodians 
of  the  mosque,  do  not  like  to  be  left  in  darkness. 

[63] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


have  already  looked  upon  the  Pharaoh  who  oppressed 
the  Children  of  Israel?  These  are  some  of  the  jeal¬ 
ously  guarded  secrets  of  the  forbidden  tomb  of  Mach- 
pelah. 


* 


[64] 


VI 


The  dome  of  the  rock 

IN  any  panorama  of  the  Holy  City,  the  most  prom¬ 
inent  feature  is  the  large,  level,  open  space  to 
the  southeast,  in  the  center  of  which  rises  the 
symmetrical  Mosque  of  Omar,  the  only  beautiful 
building  in  Jerusalem. 

The  surrounding  area,  which  is  about  sixteen  hun¬ 
dred  feet  long  from  north  to  south  and  a  thousand 
feet  wide,  is  called  by  the  Moslems  the  Haram  esli- 
Sherif  or  “Noble  Sanctuary,”  and  is  considered  by 
them  the  most  sacred  place  on  earth,  save  only  the 
Great  Mosque  in  the  holy  city  of  Mecca.  On  the 
west  and  north  is  the  unkempt  jumble  of  crowded, 
dirty-white  buildings,  above  whose  myriad  domes 
rises  an  occasional  minaret  or  belfry ;  at  the  south 
the  hillside  descends  very  rapidly  to  the  hollow  of 
Gehenna ;  at  the  east  is  an  almost  perpendicular  drop 
of  a  hundred  feet  to  the  bottom  of  the  Kidron  Valley, 
beyond  which  rises  the  Mount  of  Olives.  The  greater 
part  of  Jerusalem,  as  well  as  the  Mount  of  Olives,  is 
considerably  higher  than  the  Haram  e  sh- Slier  if ;  and 
yet  it  would  be  hard  to  conceive  of  a  more  striking 
situation  for  a  sanctuary  than  this  huge  shelf  at  the 

[65] 


5 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


edge  of  the  city,  overlooking  the  valley.  Even  if 
there  were  no  historical  indications,  we  should  be  sure 
that  this  must  be  the  site  which  was  chosen  for  the 
ancient  Temple. 

It  is  only  from  a  distance,  however,  that  the  Haram 
appears  level.  It  is  really  gently  rolling,  except  in 
the  center,  where  there  is  a  platform  ten  feet  higher, 
paved  with  stone  and  marble.  This  inner  platform 
is  550  feet  long.  It  is  entered  through  eight  orna¬ 
mental  arcades,  which  are  known  as  the  “Scales,” 
because  upon  them  at  the  Judgment  Day  will  be  bal¬ 
anced  the  scales  in  which  the  good  and  evil  deeds  of 
men  will  be  weighed. 

No  one  may  enter  here  except  with  shoeless  feet, 
or,  in  the  case  of  Frank .<,*  with  the  shoes  covered  by 
great  yellow  slippers,  which  are  provided  for  the  pur¬ 
pose.  Indeed  the  whole  Haram  area  is  considered  so 
sacred  that  it  would  be  unsafe  for  Christians  to  visit 
it  without  the  protection  of  the  soldiers  provided  by 
the  Turkish  governor.  I  have  been  cursed  for  merely 
looking  too  intently  at  one  of  the  outer  gates. 

There  are  a  number  of  other  holy  structures 
around  the  central  building.  The  Dome  of  the  Chain 
is  a  kind  of  miniature  copy  of  the  Mosque  of  Omar. 
It  receives  its  name  from  the  Moslem  tradition  that 

*  The  word  “Frank”  (Arabic  Franji,  i.  e.,  originally,  a 
Frenchman),  as  now  employed  in  Palestine,  denotes  either  a 
European  or  American.  It  is  not  an  invidious  term;  that  is,  as 
ordinarily  used,  it  does  not  imply  either  superiority  or  inferior¬ 
ity  on  the  part  of  the  foreigner. 

[66] 


The  Mosque  of  Omar  from  the  south 


The  Koran,  open  at  the  first  chapter,  on  the  right-hand  page 


THE  DOME  OF  THE  ROCK 


Solomon  stretched  across  its  entrance  a  chain  which 
was  endowed  with  miraculous  powers,  so  that,  if  it 
was  touched  by  a  false  witness,  a  link  fell  off.  A 
second  domed  sanctuary  commemorates  Mohammed’s 
famous  journey  to  Heaven;  and  still  another  “dome” 
is  dedicated  to  St.  George.* 

There  is  also  an  ablution  fountain  and  an  elaborate 
marble  pulpit,  where  sermons  are  preached  on  Fri¬ 
days  in  the  fast-month  of  Ramadan.  At  the  extreme 
southern  end  of  the  Haram  is  el-Aksa ,  the  “Farth¬ 
est”  Mosque  ( i .  e.  from  Mecca),  which  was  erected 
in  the  sixth  century  as  a  Christian  church  by  the 
Emperor  Justinian  (the  same  who  built  St.  Sophia 
in  Constantinople)  ;  but  which  Mohammed  said  had 
been  a  shrine  of  Islam  long  before  he  received  his 
divine  revelation. 

But  surpassing  all  else  in  beauty  and  interest  is  the 
Mosque  of  Omar,  named  after  the  third  caliph,  who 
conquered  Palestine  in  the  year  636.  According  to 
all  the  Arabian  historians,  however,  this  building  was 
erected  fifty  years  later  by  the  Caliph  Abd  el-Melek. 

*  The  saint  is  said  to  have  been  a  Christian  military  officer, 
of  a  noble  Cappadocian  family,  who  suffered  martyrdom  in 
303  A.  D.  at  Lydda,  where  a  famous  pilgrimage  church  was 
erected  over  his  tomb.  The  story  of  his  killing  the  dragon  is, 
of  course,  a  transference  of  Perseus’  exploit  at  Jaffa,  which,  in 
turn,  is  derived  from  the  widespread  Semitic  myth  about  the 
destruction  of  the  primeval  chaos-monster.  Strangely  enough, 
this  Christian  martyr  is  a  favorite  hero  of  the  Moslems,  who 
call  him  el-Khudr,  “the  Ever-green”  ( i .  e.,  the  undying),  and 
frequently  confuse  him  with  Elijah.  He  was  adopted  as  the 
patron  saint  of  England  by  the  crusading  king,  Richard  I. 

[67] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


The  mosque  is  not  very  large.  In  shape  it  is  of 
an  octagon  whose  sides  measure  only  sixty-seven  feet, 
and  the  top  of  the  crescent  over  the  dome  is  but  one 
hundred  and  fifteen  feet  above  the  ground.  The  ex¬ 
terior  is  coated  with  marble  as  high  as  the  sills  of  the 
fifty-six  windows  which  encircle  the  building,  above 
which  are  porcelain  tiles  in  the  favorite  Moslem 
colors  of  green,  white  and  blue.  The  lines  are  so 
simple,  the  coloring  so  warm  and  the  arabesque  orna¬ 
mentation  at  once  so  elaborate  and  so  tasteful  that 
this  mosque,  which  was  built  only  two  generations 
after  the  wild  Arab  tribes  began  to  rally  under  the 
banner  of  Mohammed,  remains  to  this  day  one  of  the 
most  perfect  of  all  religious  edifices.  There  is  noth¬ 
ing  in  Jerusalem  to  be  compared  with  it  architec¬ 
turally  ;  and  as  a  house  of  worship  it  is  so  rich  and 
clean  and  quiet  that,  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
Latin  monasteries  and  Protestant  missions,  it  is  by  far 
the  most  sacred-seeming  place  in  all  the  Holy  City. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  the  illiterate  Crusaders  took 
this  splendid  building  for  the  Temple  of  Solomon 
itself.  But  they  re-dedicated  it  with  acts  worthy 
of  infamous  Herod ;  for  here,  according  to  their  own 
reports,  they  massacred  more  than  ten  thousand 
Moslems  who  had  fled  to  the  Haram  for  refuge. 

We  pass  within  the  mosque  through  a  doorway 
which  is  magnificently  decorated  with  complicated 
geometrical  designs  and  interwoven  Arabic  texts.  I 
have  lived  long  enough  in  the  Turkish  Empire  to 

[68] 


THE  DOME  OF  THE  ROCK 


know  something  of  the  horrors  of  Moslem  rule;  and 
yet  I  feel  that  no  one  should  enter  this  wonderful 
sanctuary,  which  marks  a  spot  reverenced  for  thir¬ 
teen  centuries  by  sincere  believers  in  the  religion  of 
Islam,  and  before  that  for  twice  thirteen  centuries 
the  scene  of  solemn  worship,  who  does  not  first  read 
the  Arabic  inscription  above  the  portal — the  invoca¬ 
tion  with  which  every  chapter  of  the  Koran  begins — 
Bismillah ,  er-R ahrridn,  er -Rahim , 

“In  the  name  of  God,  the  Merciful,  the  Compas¬ 
sionate  !” 

The  interior  is  open  and  spacious.  It  is  about 
one  hundred  and  seventy-five  feet  in  diameter,  and  is 
divided  by  marble  columns  into  three  parts :  a  central 
enclosure  and  two  concentric  circular  aisles.  As  is  so 
often  the  case  in  Moslem  houses  of  worship,  the  stones 
were  many  of  them  taken  from  earlier  buildings ;  so 
that  a  close  inspection  shows  differences  in  size,  form 
and  color.  Doubtless  some  of  these  materials  were 
taken  from  the  ruins  of  the  Temple  of  Jupiter,  which 
was  erected  on  this  spot  by  the  heathen  emperor 
Hadrian.  The  accompanying  illustration  shows  how 
some  of  the  columns  have  marble  blocks  placed  above 
the  capitals,  so  that  the  cornice  may  be  level.* 

*  Speaking  of  the  photograph,  I  do  not  know  how  it  hap¬ 
pened,  but  in  this  very  sanctum  sanctorum  of  fanaticism,  I 
was  allowed  to  gather  together  a  number  of  rugs,  pile  them 
breast-high  near  the  outer  wall  as  a  support  for  my  camera, 
and  then  take  a  time  exposure,  without  being  interfered  with 
even  to  the  extent  of  being  importuned  for  bakhsheesh. 

[69] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


The  upper  part  of  the  walls  is  adorned  by  bright- 
colored  mosaics,  above  which  runs  a  broad  blue  band, 
bearing  in  golden  Cufic  letters  verses  from  the  Koran 
which  refer  to  Christ,  denying  His  divinity,  but  hon¬ 
oring  Him  as  the  greatest  of  all  prophets.  Indeed, 
so  highly  do  the  Moslems  revere  ‘/sd,  as  they  call 
Him,  that  a  person  daring  to  curse  Christ  in  the 
Moslem  city  of  Damascus  would  be  torn  to  pieces  by 
the  infuriated  Moslem  mob. 

Around  the  central  section  of  the  mosque  is  a 
wrought-iron  screen  placed  there  by  the  Crusaders. 
Within  it  is  a  second,  smaller  screen  of  wood,  and 
then,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  mosque  there  is — a 
rock !  A  limestone  rock  about  fifty  feet  in  diameter, 
and  rising  six  or  seven  feet  above  the  floor.  That  is 
all.  Yet  so  famous  is  the  stone  that  the  Arabic  name 
for  the  mosque  is  Kubbet  es-Sakhra ,  “The  Dome  of 
the  Rock.”  So  sacred  is  it  that  in  Moslem  eyes  it 
has  no  rival  on  earth,  except  that  other  stone,  the 
Black  Stone  in  the  Kctaba  at  Mecca. 

Around  this  holy  rock  cluster  numberless  legends. 
According  to  Jewish  tradition,  it  was  here  that  Abra¬ 
ham  and  Melchizedek  sacrificed  together  to  the  Most 
High  God;  and  here  also  that  Abraham  would  have 
offered  up  his  son  Isaac;  and  here  that  Jacob 
poured  out  his  libation  to  Jehovah.  This  was  the 
central  point  of  the  world,  where  the  Ark  of  the 
Covenant  rested.  Indeed,  the  ark  still  lies  buried 
beneath  it.  On  this  rock  was  written  the  mysterious, 

[70] 


THE  DOME  OF  THE  ROCK 


unspeakable  name  of  God,  which  Jesus  succeeded  in 
deciphering,  and  consequently  was  enabled  by  its  aid 
to  work  His  miracles.  More  probable  is  the  suppo¬ 
sition  that  the  altar  of  the  Temple  stood  here;  for 
traces  of  a  channel  for  carrying  off  the  blood  of  the 
sacrifices  can  still  be  seen. 

The  Moslems  believe  that  at  the  Last  Day  the 
Ka'aba  of  Mecca  will  be  miraculously  transported  to 
the  Mosque  of  Omar,  and  then  upon  this  rock  will  be 
set  the  judgment  throne  of  God. 

Underneath  the  rock  is  quite  a  large  cavern,  in 
which  the  custodians  show  the  places  where  Abra¬ 
ham,  David,  Solomon  and  Elijah  used  to  come  to 
pray.  Mohammed  prayed  here  also,  and  declared 
that  one  prayer  here  was  worth  a  thousand  anywhere 
else.  The  prophet  seems  to  have  been  unusually  tall, 
for  when  he  rose  from  prayer  he  left  the  impression 
of  his  head  upon  the  ceiling.  When  he  went  on  that 
wonderful  night  journey  to  the  celestial  regions,  his 
steed  el-Burak  flew  with  him  right  through  the  roof 
of  the  cavern.  The  hole  is  still  shown !  The  rock 
•  tried  to  follow  Mohammed,  and  you  can  see  the  print 
which  Gabriel’s  thumb  made  when  he  held  it  down ; 
also  the  “tongue”  of  stone  which  praised  the  Prophet 
of  Allah,  and  presumably  besought  the  archangel  not 
to  restrain  the  rock’s  impetuous  flight. 

The  great  stone  is  suspended  over  empty  space,  or 
(a  more  popular  view)  it  covers  the  entrance  to  hell. 
In  the  center  of  the  cave  is  a  loose  slab  of  stone,  and 


[71] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


the  floor  does  indeed  sound  hollow  when  you  knock  it. 
The  slab  is  comparatively  new.  It  is  said  that  until 
quite  recent  years,  people  used  to  come  here  and  con¬ 
verse  intimately  with  the  souls  of  the  departed.  But 
a  certain  widow,  who  was  more  than  usually  talkative, 
carried  so  much  gossip  back  and  forth  that  she  caused 
trouble  in  Jerusalem  and  also  in — the  other  place. 
Finally  the  uproar  below  became  so  outrageous  that 
the  opening  had  to  be  closed  in  order  to  prevent  fur¬ 
ther  mischief  making. 

The  level  surface  of  the  Hararn  esh-Slierif  is 
largely  built-up  artificially.  The  Moslems  say  that 
the  mysterious  substructures  were  constructed  by 
the  aid  of  demons.  These  are  massive  and  spacious 
beyond  description,  and  probably  were  begun  thou¬ 
sands  of  years  ago.  Here  are  the  great,  vaulted 
“Stables  of  Solomon,”  where  at  least  the  Crusaders 
did  keep  their  horses.  And  here  are  cisterns  innumer¬ 
able.  Some  of  them  could  not  be  surveyed  without  a 
boat.  One  is  so  large  that  it  is  called  in  Arabic  a 
“sea.”  It  has  a  capacity  of  upwards  of  two  million 
gallons. 

Coming  out  again  into  the  daylight,  we  climb  the 
eastern  wall  of  the  Haram  for  a  view  of  the  city, 
which  rises  like  an  amphitheatre  above  us,  and  a 
splendid  prospect  past  the  Mount  of  Olives  to  the 
hills  of  the  Judean  Wilderness,  and  one  dizzying 
glance  down  the  outside  of  the  wall — seventy  feet 
straight  down — to  the  steep  slope  of  the  Valley  of 

[72] 


Interior  of  the  Mosque  of  Omar.  The  Rock  lies  within  the 
central  enclosure,  at  the  right  of  the  picture 


The  sacred  Rock  at  the  center  of  the  Mosque  of  Omar, 
which  has  been  reverenced  from  time  immemorial 


THE  DOME  OF  THE  ROCK 


Kidron.  And  then  we  notice  a  horizontal  column 
sticking  out  of  the  wall  near  the  top,  in  a  most  pecu¬ 
liar  and  apparently  unnecessary  position. 

According  to  the  Moslems,  when  the  end  of  the 
world  comes,  Jesus  will  sit  on  the  wall  above  the 
column  and  Mohammed  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and 
between  them  a  rope  will  be  stretched,  over  which  all 
men  must  attempt  to  pass.  The  righteous  will  suc¬ 
ceed,  but  the  wicked  will  fall  and  be  annihilated  in 
the  valley  far  below. 

According  to  another  form  of  the  tradition,  only 
a  spider’s  thread  will  bridge  the  chasm.  Christians 
and  Jews  will  strive  to  cross  on  it  and  will  all  be 
destroyed.  Then  the  Moslems  will  be  filled  with  ter¬ 
ror  and  will  beseech  Mohammed  to  help  them ;  where¬ 
upon  the  complacent  prophet  will  transform  himself 
into  a  ram ;  the  faithful  will  be  turned  into  fleas  and, 
jumping  into  the  fleece  of  the  ram,  will  be  carried 
safely  over.  » 

Thus — not  only  in  Jerusalem,  but  all  over  Pales¬ 
tine — are  the  sublime  and  the  ridiculous  inextricably 
tangled  together,  and  the  most  impressive  localities 
and  holy  associations  marred  by  foolish  nursery  tales. 


[73] 


VII 


THE  WALL  OF  TEARS 

A  CHAPTER  on  the  Jews  of  Jerusalem  should 
be  very  short,  though  that  cannot  keep  it 
from  being  very  sad.  They  number  fifty 
thousand  or  more — two-thirds  of  the  entire  popula¬ 
tion — and  have  over  seventy  synagogues,  besides 
hospitals  and  schools  and  other  well-equipped  benevo¬ 
lent  institutions.  But  they  do  not  belong  in  Jerusa¬ 
lem.  I  mean,  they  are  not  Palestinian  Jews.  They 
are  German  Jews  or  Spanish  Jews  or  Russian  Jews 
or  Dutch  Jews.  With  negligible  exceptions,  this  is 
true  of  their  few  other  settlements  throughout  the 
Land  of  Israel.  There  are  ten  times  as  many  Jews 
in  New  York  City  as  in  all  Palestine,  and  those  in 
New  York  feel  ten  times  more  at  home. 

The  Jews  in  Jerusalem  are  strangers  and  aliens ; 
and  they  look  it.  Large  numbers  of  them  cannot 
even  talk  the  language  of  the  country  (Arabic),  and 
among  themselves  there  are  in  use  several  widely 
differing  dialects  of  Yiddish.  They  are  unfamiliar 
and  ill  at  ease  in  the  land  of  their  fathers.  The  old 
people  seem  very  careworn  and  sorrowful.  Even  the 
young  men  look  listless  and  woe-begone.  But  there 

[74] 


THE  WALL  OF  TEARS 


are  not  many  young  men.  The  typical  Jerusalem 
Jew  is  one  who  has  come  here  to  die  and  be  buried 
in  sacred  soil. 

Some  are  American  citizens — of  the  type  of  a 
certain  Aaron  Lowenstein  whom  I  met  one  day  at  our 
consulate,  where  he  was  pleading  for  the  protection 
of  the  Stars  and  Stripes  against  some  act  of  Turkish 
oppression ;  pleading  through  an  interpreter,  because 
Aaron  himself  could  not  speak  a  word  of  English ! 
I  think,  however,  that  he  had  really  been  in  the 
United  States.  But  in  many  cases  the  New  York 
Jew  practises  Zionism,  so  to  speak,  by  proxy.  He 
becomes  naturalized — after  a  year  or  two  in  America. 
Then  he  secures  a  passport,  which  he  mails  to  his 
father  or  uncle  in  Russia.  Whereupon  the  old  man 
makes  his  way  straight  to  Jerusalem,  where  his  pov¬ 
erty  and  helplessness  cause  endless  trouble  to  the 
patient  officials  of  “his”  consulate. 

Zionism  is  one  of  the  great  idealistic  movements  of 
this  materialistic  generation,  and  too  high  praise 
cannot  be  given  for  the  unselfishness  and  optimism 
and  loyalty  of  the  wealthy  Jews  in  Europe  and 
America,  who  have  contributed  so  generously  to  the 
support  of  their  co-religionists  in  the  immigrant 
colonies  in  Palestine.  But,  as  I  have  often  told  in¬ 
quiring  Jewish  friends,  the  whole  question  of  the 
Zionist  movement  can  be  summed  up  in  one  sentence. 
Palestine  is  essentially  an  agricultural  country,  and 
the  modern  Jew  will  not  farm.  The  German  colo- 


[751 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


nists  will  farm ;  and  their  little  settlements  in  the 
Holy  Land  are  quite  successful.  But  if  the  flood  of 
benefactions  from  the  West  should  cease,  the  kind  of 
Jew  who  will  live  in  Palestine  would  rather  starve 
than  work  the  piece  of  land  which  has  been  given 
him.  Of  course,  that  is  a  generalization  to  which 
there  are  striking  individual  exceptions.  But  as  a 
broad  statement,  it  is  sufficiently  exact. 

“Would  you  go  back?”  I  ask  my  Jewish  friends  in 
New  York — fine,  manly,  ambitious  young  lawyers 
and  teachers  and  merchants,  who  are  succeeding  so 
well  in  this  new  Land  of  Promise — “Would  you  leave 
America  for  Palestine?”  They  throw  back  their 
heads  and  laugh  at  the  mere  suggestion. 

The  platform  where  their  ancient  temple  used  to 
stand  is  closed  to  the  Jews.  It  would  probably  mean 
death  for  them  to  enter  its  jealously  guarded  pre¬ 
cincts.  They  would  be  in  as  great  danger  if  curiosity 
should  draw  them  to  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepul¬ 
chre.  Once  while  I  was  in  Jerusalem,  a  young  Italian 
who  wras  strolling  about  the  building  was  mistaken 
for  a  Jew,  and  was  beaten  nearly  to  death  by  the 
infuriated  Christians  before  their  mistake  was  dis¬ 
covered.  Even  if  the  Jews  were  granted  permission 
to  visit  the  Haram  esh-Sherif,  they  would  not  dare 
avail  themselves  of  it,  for  fear  of  committing  the 
deadly  sin  of  treading  unwittingly  upon  the  Holy  of 
Holies. 

But  there  is  an  alley  within  the  city,  which  runs 

[76] 


Jews  of  Jerusalem 


The  famous  Wailing  Place,  showing  the  massive  stones  of  the 
ancient  wall,  before  which  the  Jews  of  Jerusalem  mourn 
over  the  vanished  glory  of  Israel 


THE  WALL  OF  TEARS 


for  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  along  the  outside  of  the 
foundations  of  the  Haram.  The  wall  here  is  unusu¬ 
ally  high  and  strongly  constructed,  and  the  lower 
courses,  which  are  built  up  of  huge  blocks  of  stone, 
may  have  been  a  part  of  the  original  substructures 
of  the  platform  on  which  stood  the  royal  palace  and 
the  Temple. 

This  alley  by  the  old  gray  wall  is  the  far-famed 
“Wailing  Place.”  Here  the  poor  Jews,  exiles  in  their 
own  land,  can  at  least  press  their  lips  to  the  cold 
stones  and  weep  over  the  desolation  of  Jerusalem. 
Pilgrims  from  the  distant  countries  of  their  adoption 
come  here  to  worship,  and  to  make  solemn  vows,  in 
commemoration  of  which  they  stick  long  nails  be¬ 
tween  the  stones.  Some  carve  their  names  in  Hebrew 
letters  upon  the  wall,  or  with  candles  smoke  pious 
prayers  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem  on  the  weather¬ 
beaten  surface.  Some  wail  and  shriek  and  tear  their 
garments  and  their  hair.  But  the  old,  old  men  just 
sit  here  all  day  long,  and  nod  over  their  prayer  books, 
and  dream  of  the  departed  glory  of  Israel. 

The  place  is  seldom  empty  of  these  melancholy 
worshippers ;  but  the  largest  crowds  are  seen  on 
Friday  evenings,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Jewish 
Sabbath,  when  they  gather  in  their  holy-day  gar¬ 
ments  and  chant  responsively  their  mournful  litany — 

“For  the  palace  that  is  destroyed; 

We  sit  in  solitude  and  mourn. 


[77] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


For  the  walls  that  are  overthrown; 

We  sit  in  solitude  and  mourn. 

For  the  majesty  that  is  departed; 

We  sit  in  solitude  and  mourn. 

May  the  kingdom  soon  return  to  Zion ; 

Comfort  those  who  mourn  over  Jerusalem.” 

“Is  it  true,”  a  bright  young  American  Jew  asked 
me  the  other  day,  “Is  it  true,  as  my  grandfather  says, 
that  on  the  anniversary  of  the  destruction  of  Jeru¬ 
salem,  the  stones  of  the  ancient  wall  also  weep?” 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  add  another  perplexity  to  the 
heart  of  the  sad  old  grandfather.  I  answered,  “I 
have  never  noticed  it  myself ;  but  if  stones  ever  did 
shed  tears,  surely  these  would.” 


[781 


VIII 


The  heart  of  Christendom 

IN  a  photograph  of  Jerusalem,  it  is  not  easy  to 
distinguish  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
Indeed,  when  you  actually  stand  on  a  housetop 
and  look  out  over  the  city,  the  most  famous  of  Chris¬ 
tian  sanctuaries  appears,  not  as  a  single  prominent 
structure,  but  rather  as  a  greater  thickening  and 
massing  of  the  always  confused  and  crowded  build¬ 
ings.  For  the  church  is  not  a  single  edifice,  but  a 
group  of  some  thirty  cathedrals  and  chapels  and 
shrines  and  monasteries  which  during  sixteen  cen¬ 
turies  have  been,  as  it  were,  roughly  piled  together 
upon  this  holy  spot. 

Bishop  Eusebius  of  Caesarea,  “the  father  of  church 
history,”  who  was  a  contemporary  of  Constantine  the 
Great  and  an  eye-witness  of  many  of  the  events  which 
he  records,  tells  us  that,  after  the  conversion  of  the 
emperor,  his  mother  Helena,  although  a  woman  of 
nearly  eighty,  set  out  from  Constantinople  on  a 
grateful  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land,  where  she 
caused  beautiful  churches  to  be  erected  upon  the 
Mount  of  Olives  and  at  Bethlehem.  This  was  in  326 
A.  D.  Shortly  afterwards,  Constantine  cleansed  the 

[79] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


sepulchre  of  the  Lord  from  all  traces  of  the  impure 
Venus  worship  which  had  been  celebrated  there  under 
the  heathen  emperors,  and  built  over  it  a  magnificent 
church,  which  was  formally  dedicated  in  the  year 
335.  Eusebius  himself  assisted  at  the  ceremonies, 
and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  correctly  relates 
the  story  of  the  building  of  the  first  Christian  sanc¬ 
tuary  here. 

But  before  many  years  had  passed,  the  church  had 
come  to  be  universally  ascribed  to  Helena,  who  had 
become  a  kind  of  patron  saint  of  Palestinian  archi¬ 
tecture — by  the  fourteenth  century  no  less  than 
thirty  churches  were  reputed  to  have  been  built  by 
her — and  pious  historians  tell  the  story  of  the  foun¬ 
dation  of  the  Basilica  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  with 
great  detail.  St.  Helena,  they  say,  received  divine 
information  concerning  the  exact  location  of  Calvary 
and,  removing  the  filth  and  debris  with  which  the 
heathen  had  covered  the  mount,  she  discovered  there 
the  Saviour’s  tomb,  and  beside  it  three  crosses. 
But  the  tablet  written  by  Pilate  had  fallen  from  its 
place,  so  that  there  was  apparently  no  way  to  deter¬ 
mine  which  of  the  three  was  the  cross  of  Christ. 
Finally  it  was  suggested  to  test  the  miraculous  power 
of  the  crosses ;  so  they  were  each  in  turn  placed 
before  a  woman  who  was  suffering  from  a  fatal  dis¬ 
ease.  The  first  and  second  produced  no  effect  what¬ 
ever  ;  but  when  the  third  was  brought,  she  was  imme¬ 
diately  cured  and  rose  up  from  her  bed.  Now  that 

[80] 


THE  HEART  OF  CHRISTENDOM 


the  identity  of  the  True  Cross  was  discovered,  Helena 
built  over  Calvary  and  the  Sepulchre  a  church  of 
wondrous  richness  and  beauty. 

Whether  built  by  Constantine  or  Helena,  the  pres¬ 
ent  structure  is  not  the  one  erected  in  the  fourth 
century,  however ;  for  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepul¬ 
chre  has  been  again  and  again  destroyed ;  by  the 
Persians,  Turks  and  Arabs,  and  by  disastrous  fires, 
the  last  of  which,  in  1808,  reduced  almost  the  entire 
building  to  ruins. 

In  Arabic  and  Greek  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  is  more  appropriately  named  “the  Church 
of  the  Resurrection.”  It  has  already  been  noted  that 
the  edifice  is  supposed  to  enclose  both  Calvary  and 
the  Garden  Tomb.  During  the  centuries  since  its 
foundation,  as  many  other  sacred  localities  as  pos¬ 
sible  have  been  conveniently  localized  under  the  same 
roof.  Here  is  a  partial  list  of  the  holy  places,  in 
the  approximate  order  in  which  one  meets  them  in 
traveling  around  the  church. 

The  altar  where  Melchizedek  and  Abraham  sacri¬ 
ficed — the  place  where  Christ  was  nailed  to  the  cross 
— where  Abraham  would  have  sacrificed  Isaac — 
where  Christ  appeared  to  Mary  Magdalene — the 
stone  where  His  body  was  anointed  for  burial — - 
where  the  women  stood  while  they  witnessed  the 
anointing — the  stone  which  the  angel  rolled  away 
from  the  Sepulchre — the  tomb  of  Christ — the  tombs 
of  Joseph  of  Arimathea  and  Nicodemus — the  site  of 

[81] 


6 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


the  house  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea — another  place 
where  Christ  appeared  to  Mary  Magdalene — where 
He  appeared  to  His  mother  after  the  resurrection — 
the  column  by  which  He  was  scourged — the  garden  of 
Joseph  of  Arimathea — the  center  of  the  world — the 
stocks  where  Christ’s  feet  were  fastened — the  prison 
where  He  was  kept — the  place  where  His  raiment  was 
parted — where  the  Empress  Helena  sat  while  the 
cross  was  being  sought — the  place  where  it  was  dis¬ 
covered — where  Christ  was  crowned  with  thorns — the 
holes  in  which  the  three  crosses  were  set  up — a  cleft 
in  the  rock  which  reaches  down  to  the  center  of  the 
earth — the  tomb  of  Melchizedek — where  Christ  was 
nailed  to  the  cross — the  burial-place  of  Adam. 

All  of  these  are  not,  of  course,  in  the  central  struc¬ 
ture,  but  are  scattered  through  the  maze  of  adjoin¬ 
ing  buildings.  They  are  all  under  one  roof,  that  is, 
you  can  pass  from  one  to  the  other  without  going 
out-of-doors ;  but  they  open  out  at  different  angles, 
are  on  four  or  five  different  levels,  and  are  so  com¬ 
plicated  in  their  interrelations  that  a  detailed  descrip¬ 
tion  would  only  heap  confusion  on  confusion.  An 
actual  visit  to  the  church  leaves  most  travelers  with 
a  very  indefinite  idea  of  the  relative  location  of  the 
shrines.  You  go  in  and  out,  upstairs  and  downstairs, 
along  winding  underground  galleries  to  subterranean 
chapels,  and  high  up  to  archways  of  the  domes  and 
towers.  Now  there  will  be  an  open  space  reaching 
right  up  to  the  roof.  Alongside  of  it  there  will  be 

[82] 


The  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre 


f 


On  the  roof  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  is  a  street 
wider  than  many  in  the  city  below 


THE  HEART  OF  CHRISTENDOM 


two  or  three  chapels  placed  irregularly  one  above  the 
other,  so  that  you  quite  lose  your  sense  of  direction 
as  you  wind  along  dark  passageways  and  narrow, 
crooked  flights  of  stairs  from  one  to  the  other.  Even 
with  the  assistance  of  a  plan,  only  a  person  with 
some  knowledge  of  architecture  can  get  an  adequate 
understanding  of  the  structure  as  a  whole. 

It  is  a  veritable  Brobdingnagian  ant  hill — a  mys¬ 
terious  labyrinth — a  vast,  mountainous  pile  honey¬ 
combed  with  numberless  unintelligible  excavations, 
rather  than  what  we  usually  think  of  as  a  church. 
In  the  rock  beneath  it  are  cisterns  large  enough  to 
provide  all  Jerusalem  with  water  during  an  extended 
siege.  Upon  one  part  of  the  roof  is  a  whole  village 
of  Abyssinian  monks,  with  the  doors  of  the  houses 
opening  out  on  a  street  which  is  wider  than  many  in 
the  city  beneath. 

The  principal  entrance  to  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  is  from  a  low,  small  square,  which  is  always 
crowded  with  beggars  and  venders  of  souvenirs.  It 
is  impossible  to  get  a  near  view  of  the  entire  building. 
Just  inside  of  the  portal  are  a  number  of  very  lazy 
looking  Moslem  soldiers,  like  those  whom  we  saw  in 
the  Church  of  the  Nativity  at  Bethlehem,  and  sta¬ 
tioned  here  for  the  same  humiliating  reason.  Beyond 
the  guard,  we  reach  the  first  important  altar,  at  the 
“Stone  of  Anointing,”  upon  which  the  body  of 
Christ  is  said  to  have  been  laid  while  it  was  being 

[83] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


3 


prepared  for  burial  by  Nicodemus.  The  present  slab 
was  placed  here  after  the  fire  of  1808.  Some  say, 
however,  that  the  real  stone  lies  underneath.  Above 
the  stone  hang  a  number  of  precious  lamps,  whose 
Ownership  is  divided  among  the  Greek,  Armenian, 
Roman  Catholic  and  Coptic  monks.  In  fact,  all 
through  the  building,  the  honor  of  caring  for  the 
various  chapels  is  divided  among  these  four  churches, 
while  minor  sects  like  the  Abyssinians,  Nestorians, 
etc.,  have  less  important  shrines ;  and  all  alike  very 
jealously  resent  any  infringement  of  their  rights. 

Back  of  the  Stone  of  Anointing,  at  the  very  cen¬ 
ter  of  the  general  mass  of  buildings,  is  the  cathe¬ 
dral  of  the  Orthodox  Greeks,  erected  in  the  twelfth 
century  by  the  Crusaders  as  a  separate  edifice,  but 
now  a  church  within  a  church.  Architecturally  this 
is  the  finest  of  the  whole  group  of  buildings,  although 
the  great  fire  of  1808  destroyed  practically  all  of 
the  work  of  the  Crusaders.  The  cathedral  is  120 
feet  long,  richly  decorated  with  lamps  and  paintings 
and  gold-work,  and  furnished  with  no  less  than  three 
enormous  and  elaborately  carved  patriarchal  thrones. 
This  is  supposed  to  be  the  site  of  the  garden  of 
Joseph  of  Arimathea.  In  the  middle  of  the  nave  is 
a  small  monument,  shaped  something  like  an  urn  for 
growing  flowers,  which  is  said  to  mark  the  center  of 
the  world. 

“Mount  Calvary”  is  located  just  to  the  south  of 
the  Greek  Cathedral,  upon  an  eminence  whose  summit 

[84] 


-*► 


THE  HEART  OF  CHRISTENDOM 


is  fourteen  or  fifteen  feet  above  the  main  floor.  Here 

* 

there  are  three  small,  dark  chapels.  The  first,  the 
Chapel  of  the  Raising  of  the  Cross,  belongs  to  the 
Greeks.  In  the  floor  is  a  small  opening,  lined  with 
silver,  in  which  the  cross  of  Christ  is  said  to  have 
been  set  up.  Near  this  is  a  cleft  in  the  rock  (see 
Matt.  £7 :  51,  “the  rocks  were  rent”),  which  seems  to 
be  only  a  few  inches  in  depth,  but  which  is  said  to 
reach  to  the  center  of  the  earth.  The  tradition 
recognizing  the  spherical  shape  of  the  earth  is,  of 
course,  much  later  than  the  one  which  places  the 
center  of  the  world  on  the  surface,  in  the  garden  of 
Joseph  of  Arimathea. 

The  second  chapel  on  Calvary  marks  the  spot 
where  Mary  received  the  body  of  Christ.  This 
belongs  to  the  Latins,  as  does  also  the  tiny  adjoining 
Chapel  of  the  Agony.  These  two  are  much  simpler 
and  more  dignified  in  their  fittings  than  the  chapel  of 
the  Greeks ;  and,  indeed,  all  over  the  church  the 
Roman  Catholics  show  a  more  becoming  restraint  in 
the  ornamentation  of  their  shrines  and  a  more  im¬ 
pressive  dignity  in  their  worship  than  do  the  Oriental 
sects. 

The  Chapel  of  St.  Helena,  where  the  empress  sat 
while  the  excavations  were  being  conducted  under  her 
supervision,  lies  sixteen  feet  below  the  level  of  the 
main  buildings,  and  may  be  a  part  of  the  ancient 
moat  of  Jerusalem.  It  was  probably  here  that  the 
first  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  was  erected.  Of 

[85] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


course  all  remains  of  Constantine’s  basilica  have  long 
since  disappeared;  but  the  ceiling  which  the  Cru¬ 
saders  built  escaped  the  great  fire  which  destroyed 
the  upper  portions  of  the  church. 

This  chapel  now  belongs  to  the  Armenians,  who 
show  the  very  seat  where  St.  Helena  rested.  Two 
hundred  years  ago,  the  Armenian  patriarch  of  Jeru¬ 
salem  naively  lamented  the  fact  that  he  had  to  renew 
the  seat  so  frequently,  on  account  of  the  vandalism 
of  pilgrims,  who  chipped  off  pieces  from  it  to  carry 
away  as  relics. 

Still  lower  down,  and  partly  cut  out  of  the  rock, 
is  the  cave-like  Chapel  of  the  Finding  of  the  Cross, 
which  contains  Greek  and  Latin  altars,  and  a  life- 
size  bronze  statue  of  St.  Helena  holding  in  her  arms 
the  newly  discovered  cross. 

When  St.  Louis  returned  to  France  from  the  Sixth 
Crusade,  he  carried  back  with  him  a  piece  of  the  True 
Cross,  as  well  as  one  of  the  nails  used  in  the  Cruci¬ 
fixion,  and  the  Crown  of  Thorns ;  and  the  king 
erected  the  exquisite  Sainte  Chapelle  of  Paris  in 
order  to  enshrine  fittingly  these  precious  relics, 
which,  however,  are  now  kept  in  the  treasury  of 
Notre  Dame.  The  principal  fragment  of  the  cross, 
after  having  been  carried  away  by  the  Persian  Chos- 
roes  II  and  then  returned,  finally  disappeared  when 
Omar  captured  Jerusalem ;  but  smaller  pieces  are 
shown  in  many  churches  throughout  Europe.  The 
“Inscription  on  the  Cross”  is  now  in  the  Church  of 


[86] 


THE  HEART  OF  CHRISTENDOM 


Santa  Croce  in  Rome,  which  is  said  to  have  been 
built  by  St.  Helena  to  commemorate  her  discoveries 
in  Jerusalem. 

The  heart  of  all  this  immense  aggregation  of 
buildings  is,  of  course,  the  Chapel  of  the  Sepul¬ 
chre,  which  stands  under  the  great  dome.  It  is 
only  twenty-six  feet  long  and  twenty  feet  high ; 
but  the  little  building  is  painted  and  decorated  and 
adorned  and  overlaid  with  a  lavish  extravagance 
of  inharmonious  gorgeousness.  In  front  (to  the 
east)  are  two  stone  benches,  on  which  Oriental  pil¬ 
grims  sit  while  they  remove  their  shoes  before  enter¬ 
ing  the  sacred  structure.  Around  these  benches 
are  gigantic  candlesticks  as  high  as  a  man’s  head, 
surmounted  by  enormous  candles,  which  are  gilded, 
or  painted  with  bright-colored,  elaborate  representa¬ 
tions  of  incidents  connected  with  the  Crucifixion. 
A  multitude  of  smaller  candles  line  the  cornice  and 
rise,  forest-like,  along  the  edge  of  the  roof,  while 
the  roof  itself  is  hung  with  the  inevitable  lamps, 
whose  ownership  is  divided  among  the  more  power¬ 
ful  sects.  The  marble  walls  of  the  chapel  show  only 
here  and  there  between  the  gaudy  paintings,  which 
cover  the  fagade  so  closely  that  they  often  overlap 
one  another. 

The  interior  of  the  building  consists  of  two  small, 
cell-like  rooms.  In  the  center  of  the  first,  hung  round 
of  course  with  lamps,  is  a  pedestal  bearing  a  stone 
(of  quite  impossible  shape)  which  is  said  to  be  that 

[87] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


3 


which  the  angel  rolled  away  from  the  door  of  the 
tomb. 

Through  the  rear  wall  of  this  vestibule,  a  very  low 
doorway  leads  to  the  Sepulchre  itself.  This  is  only 
about  six  feet  square,  and  is  crowded  and  heavy  and 
hot.  Forty-three  lamps  hang  from  the  ceiling,  into 
which  is  cut  a  kind  of  chimney,  which  provides 
a  very  imperfect  outlet  for  the  incense-laden  smoke. 
On  the  walls  are  marble  bas-reliefs.  At  the  right  of 
the  entrance  is  a  marble  shelf  five  feet  long. 

Such  is  the  reputed  burial  place  of  Christ,  the 
scene  of  the  resurrection. 

The  entire  surroundings  of  the  Sepulchre  are  now 
so  overlaid  with  marble  that  it  is  quite  impossible  to 
determine  whether  this  was  originally  “a  tomb  that 
was  hewn  in  stone”  (Luke  23: 53).  But  at  least 
there  is  no  other  locality  which  offers  itself  as  a 
serious  rival.  The  garden  tomb  by  “Gordon’s 
Calvary”  has  hardly  anything  to  connect  it  with 
the  Gospel  narratives  except  a  sentimental  feel¬ 
ing  that  this  would  be  an  appropriate  setting.  Since 
the  early  part  of  the  third  century,  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre  has  been  recognized  as  marking 
the  location  of  the  tomb  of  Christ.  So  far  back  there 
is  an  unbroken  chain  of  testimony ;  and  the  identifi¬ 
cation  is  accepted  by  an  increasing  number  of  Prot¬ 
estant  scholars,  and,  of  course,  is  officially  recognized 
by  the  Roman  Catholic  and  Eastern  Churches.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  is  that  long  gap  of  three  cen- 

[88] 


THE  HEART  OF  CHRISTENDOM 


turies  before  the  erection  of  the  Church  of  Constan¬ 
tine,  which  is  bridged  only  by  the  easy  credulity  of 
an  age  which  knew  nothing  of  historical  criticism. 

But  whether  this  is  the  Sepulchre  or  not,  the 
church  around  it  is  one  of  the  most  impressive  and 
sacred  buildings — I  am  tempted  to  say,  the  most 
sacred  building — on  earth.  It  may  mark  the  spot 
where  Christianity  had  its  birth  that  first  Easter 
Day.  It  certainly  does  perpetuate  and  vivify  the 
memory  of  the  incidents  connected  with  Christ’s 
passion  and  resurrection,  and  preaches  to  millions 
upon  millions  of  His  followers  sermons  in  marble  and 
mosaic  which  are  no  less  convincing  to  them  because 
the  forms  under  which  these  great  truths  are  pre¬ 
sented  seem  to  some  of  us  to  be  crude  and  childish. 

More  even  than  that ;  this  church  is  the  great  his¬ 
toric  memorial  of  the  Faith.  Its  story  is  the  story 
of  Christianity.  Kings  and  queens  have  journeyed 
hither  from  far  distant  lands,  that  they  might  bow 
in  humble  adoration  before  the  sepulchre  of  the  King 
of  Kings.  Some  of  the  most  powerful  fraternal 
orders,  both  lay  and  clerical,  have,  in  fact  or  in  ideal, 
been  founded  within  these  walls.  Around  this  sanc¬ 
tuary  was  built  the  history  of  the  Middle  Ages,  when, 
century  after  century,  Crusaders  fought  with  Sara¬ 
cens  to  win  or  to  retain  possession  of  the  Holy  Sepul¬ 
chre,  while  Europe  hung  breathless  on  the  result. 
History,  romance,  poetry,  art :  all  have  interwoven 
through  them  the  pattern  of  the  longing  and  daring 

[89] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


— and  the  sinning — which  marked  the  quest  of  this 
most  sacred  shrine.  The  list  of  those  who  have 
worshipped  or  labored  or  warred  here  includes  such 
varied  names  as  the  Empress  Helena,  the  historian 
Eusebius,  St.  Jerome,  Justinian  the  Great,  St.  Willi¬ 
bald  the  English  missionary,  Robert  of  Normandy 
(the  father  of  William  the  Conqueror),  Peter  the 
Hermit,  Godfrey  de  Bouillon,  Louis  VII  of  France, 
Lamartine,  Chateaubriand,  Chinese  Gordon,  Lew 
Wallace,  Edward  VII  of  England,  William  II  of 
Germany,  besides  an  innumerable  and  unbroken  suc¬ 
cession  of  indomitable  pilgrims  who,  even  during  the 
crudest  years  of  the  Saracen  oppression,  toiled 
slowly  eastward  that  they  might  see  the  Saviour’s 
tomb  or  die  on  the  holy  errand. 

Within  the  great  church  there  are  indeed  orna¬ 
mentations  which  offend  a  refined  taste,  traditions 
which  await  scholarly  investigation,  ceremonies  which 
sadly  lack  the  simplicity  and  brotherly  kindness  of 
the  Founder  of  the  faith.  Yet,  when  all  that  is  said, 
the  solemn  fact  remains  that  here,  for  sixteen  cen¬ 
turies  at  least,  has  centered  the  love  and  devotion  and 
hope  of  the  Christian  world. 


[90] 


IX 


THE  HOLY  FIRE 

IT  was  rrom  a  rocky  summit  near  Bethel,  just  at 
sunset,  that  I  caught  my  first  view  of  Jerusalem. 
We  had  been  curtly  refused  accommodations  at 
the  monastery  where  we  had  expected  to  spend  the 
night  (the  only  such  refusal  that  I  remember),  and 
the  nearby  khan  was  too  unspeakably  filthy  for  even 
hardened  travelers.  My  only  companion  was  a  gentle¬ 
man  from  South  Africa,  who  did  not  know  a  word  of 
Arabic ;  I  had  never  been  over  this  route  before ;  and 
in  half  an  hour  it  would  be  quite  dark.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  we  were  weary  and  worried ;  so  that  the 
very  horses  caught  our  dejection,  and  trudged  heavily 
with  lowered  heads  towards  the  next  village,  where, 
inshallah  (God  willing),  there  might  be  a  stable  for 
them  and  a  bed  for  us. 

Then,  suddenly,  a  turn  in  the  road  revealed  a  tri¬ 
angular  cleft  in  the  mountains,  through  the  very 
center  of  which  we  could  see  the  Holy  City,  ten  miles 
away.  We  were  in  the  shadow,  and  the  evening  chill 
had  come  on.  Most  of  the  hills  around  Jerusalem 
were  in  the  shadow,  too ;  but  a  ray  of  the  setting  sun 
had  slipped  through  some  western  valley  and  touched 

[91] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


the  domes  and  minarets  of  the  city  with  a  dazzling 
glory.  It  shone  in  the  dusk  like  a  jewel  of  gold  and 
diamonds,  lying  on  a  bed  of  purple  plush.  Yes,  it 
seemed  like  the  New  Jerusalem  come  down  from 
heaven  as  a  bride  adorned  for  her  husband. 

I  have  seen  Jerusalem  many  times  since  then,  and 
I  have  observed  therein  many  things  which  are  far 
from  heavenly.  But  somehow  none  of  the  intimate 
details  of  life  and  worship  and  historic  interest  in 
that  ancient  city  has  fixed  itself  so  vividly  in  my 
memory  as  that  first  distant  vision  from  the  rocks 
by  Bethel,  of  Jerusalem  purified  and  glorified  by  the 
sunset  glow. 


We  stumbled  through  the  unpaved,  unlighted 
streets  of  the  next  village  to  the  compound  of  a 
Quaker  mission,  where  we  found  a  cordial  welcome ; 
and  the  next  morning — a  perfect  April  morning,  like 
the  most  beautiful  day  of  our  own  June — we  rode 
through  the  Jaffa  Gate  into  the  Holy  City. 

It  was  the  day  before  Easter — the  Greek  Easter, 
which  that  year  was  a  week  later  than  that  observed 
by  the  Latins  and  Protestants — and  Jerusalem  was 
thronged  with  pilgrims.  All  the  roads  leading  to  the 
city  were  filled  with  eager,  hurrying  crowds ;  and  the 
square  within  the  Jaffa  Gate  was  so  choked  with  the 
excited  multitude  that  it  was  almost  impassable. 
Besides  the  usual  cosmopolitan  gathering  which  is 

[92] 


THE  HOLY  FIRE 


seen  at  every  season  of  the  year,  two  classes  of 
visitors  were  especially  prominent:  the  handsome 
officers  and  trim,  manly  sailors  from  the  Greek  bat¬ 
tleship  at  Jaffa,  and  the  vast  number  of  Russian 
peasants,  who  had  come  thousands  of  weary  miles, 
over  muddy  roads  and  in  filthy  steerages,  at  (to  them) 
enormous  expense  and  even  at  risk  of  life,  that  they 
might  worship  at  the  Saviour’s  tomb.  These  Rus¬ 
sians  are  stolid  and  solemn,  simple  and  sincere,  as 
ignorant  and  trustful  as  dumb  beasts ;  and  when  you 
see  the  big,  bearded  farmers  and  weary,  sad-faced 
peasant  women  slowly  and  reverently  counting  their 
beads  before  some  patently  impossible  shrinelet,  their 
credulity  is  infectious.  For  the  moment  you  believe 
with  them,  and  also  worship. 

An  hour  after  reaching  Jerusalem,  we  were  seated 
with  the  consular  party  under  a  little  archway  in  the 
gallery  of  the  rotunda  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  looking  down  upon  one  of  the  strangest 
sights  of  the  modern  world.  For  it  was  the  hour 
when  fire  from  heaven  descends  each  year  upon  the 
tomb  of  Christ ! 

Beneath  us,  under  the  center  of  the  dome,  was  the 
Chapel  of  the  Sepulchre,  around  which  a  narrow  lane 
was  kept  open  by  a  regiment  of  Turkish  soldiers. 
The  privates  locked  arms  all  along  both  sides  of  this 
pathway,  through  which  the  officers  walked  back  and 
forth,  and  preserved  order  by  an  unsparing  use  of 
rawhide  whips.  With  the  exception  of  this  aisle,  the 

[93] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


whole  building  was  crowded  to  suffocation,  not  only 
in  the  central  rotunda,  but  out  in  every  direction,  in 
corridors  and  chapels,  as  far  as  we  could  see.  I 
should  say  that  the  crowd  numbered  at  least  ten 
thousand  persons. 

And  such  a  crowd  as  it  was !  Men  and  women 
were  pressed  together  so  that  they  could  not  even 
raise  their  arms.  The  front  ranks  were  driven  back 
by  the  strength  of  hundreds  of  soldiers  and  the  cruel 
blows  of  whips ;  the  rear  ranks  were  simply  crushed 
until  they  could  be  crushed  no  more.  It  was  a  shout¬ 
ing,  roaring,  screaming,  cursing,  malodorous  mob,  as 
if  a  hundred  football  games  and  bar-room  fights  and 
election  night  celebrations  were  all  rolled  in  together 
and  all  going  on  at  once.  There  were  many  quarrels ; 
fierce  ones,  too;  not  like  the  good-natured  jostling  of 
an  American  crowd. 

Most  of  the  people  had  been  waiting  there,  holding 
their  places,  since  the  night  before,  standing  perhaps 
twenty  hours  in  that  heat  and  stench.  No  wonder 
their  tempers  were  uncertain!  Now  two  big  Syrians 
would  enter  into  a  bitter  struggle  for  some  place  of 
vantage.  Now  a  man  would  try  to  push  his  way  into 
a  better  position,  or  break  through  the  cordon  of 
soldiers  in  order  to  perform  the  holy  act  of  running 
around  the  Sepulchre,  and  would  be  pulled  back  by 
the  heels,  while  the  officers  plied  their  whips  upon  him 
and  the  crowd  jeered  at  his  discomfiture.  Now  a 
little  group  of  favored  foreigners  like  ourselves  would 

[94] 


THE  HOLY  FIRE 


follow  a  gorgeously  uniformed  consular  kawass , 
whose  tall  staff  of  office  seemed  to  part  miraculously 
through  the  seething  mass  of  humanity  a  pathway, 
which  closed  again  immediately  behind  his  charges. 
Now  a  company  of  priests  would  quarrel  with  the 
soldiers.  Now  some  poor  fellow  who  had  been  pa¬ 
tiently  holding  his  place  for  hours  would  be  roughly 
hustled  out  of  the  way,  in  order  to  make  room  for  a 
latecomer  who  had  bribed  the  guards.  Among  the 
crowd,  the  Bethlehemites  were  especially  noticeable 
for  their  vigor  and  turbulence.  The  scene  was  strained, 
crushed,  filthy,  earnest,  cruel.  Sometimes  the  ladies 
in  our  party  covered  their  faces.  We  heard  after¬ 
wards  that  several  Russian  pilgrims  were  trampled 
to  death.  It  was  probably  so.  Such  things  happen 
nearly  every  Easter  time.  Not  many  years  ago,  over 
three  hundred  persons  lost  their  lives  in  a  panic 
which  seized  the  already  nearly  insane  mob. 

It  is  a  quarter  past  one.  The  miracle  is  not 
scheduled  to  take  place  until  two  o’clock ;  but  the 
temper  of  the  crowd  is  so  threatening  that  already 
the  ceremony  is  beginning.  The  Greek  patriarch,  in 
garments  heavy  with  gold  and  jewels,  marches 
through  the  open  lane  around  the  Chapel  of  the 
Sepulchre,  followed  by  bishops  and  deacons,  only  less 
gorgeously  apparelled  than  himself. 

And  now  the  crowd  takes  up  a  chant,  fierce  and 
loud  and  monotonous.  Like  the  angry  roll  of  thun¬ 
der,  or  like  the  beating  of  storm  waves  on  the  coast, 

[95] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


comes  the  hoarse  shout  from  ten  thousand  hysterical 
worshippers  who  are  at  the  consummation  of  their 
pilgrimage — 


“God  has  come  to  earth  to-day ; 

We  are  saved  by  His  blood. 

We  are  glad; 

But  the  Jews  are  sad.” 

After  encircling  the  chapel  three  times,  the  Greek 
pontiff  is  joined  by  the  Armenian  patriarch,  and  both 
together  enter  the  shrine.  What  happens  there?  The 
Oriental  priests  say  that  a  sacred  flame  descends 
from  heaven  upon  the  Sepulchre  of  Christ.  An 
American  Catholic  priest  whispered  in  my  ear — no, 
shouted  above  the  deafening  chant — that  the  Roman 
Church  refused  to  be  a  party  to  this  heathenish  farce. 
It  would  be  interesting  to  enter  with  the  two  patri¬ 
archs  and  see  how  they  act  in  the  presence  oj  this 
greatest  of  mysteries — or  most  blasphemous  of  im¬ 
postures.  But  to  the  expectant  multitude  outside, 
it  is  all  intensely  true. 

The  moment  has  come!  The  fire  is  to  be  handed 
out  through  a  little  hole  in  the  side  of  the  chapel. 
Near  this  are  stationed  a  score  of  large,  muscular 
men,  stripped  to  their  underclothing.  They  are  the 
picked  runners,  strong  men  from  the  different  sects, 
who  will  take  the  fire  and  carry  it  to  the  chapels 
belonging  to  the  Coptic,  Armenian,  Greek,  Abyssinian 

[96] 


THE  HOLY  FIRE 


and  Syriac  churches,  which  are  scattered  throughout 
the  great  building. 

Everyone  is  silent  now.  And,  after  the  long,  deaf¬ 
ening  uproar,  the  silence  seems  stunning.  Then 
suddenly  a  great  bell  begins  clanging,  as  if  for  an 
alarm  of  fire ;  and  again  the  vast  multitude  takes  up 
its  weird,  thunderous  chant.  A  flame  appears  at  the 
opening  in  the  side  of  the  chapel.  One  of  the  run¬ 
ners  lights  his  torch  and  shelters  it  under  his  bent 
body,  while  two  other  strong  men  hurry  him  through 
the  crowd  and  out  of  the  church.  In  a  moment  he 
will  mount  a  waiting  horse  and  gallop  at  breakneck 
speed  to  Bethlehem,  where  the  Holy  Fire  will  light 
the  lamps  in  the  Church  of  the  Nativity.  Others  of 
the  runners  kindle  their  torches  and,  forming  wedges 
like  football  teams,  they  push  through  the  struggling 
crowd  and  bring  the  fire  to  the  various  shrines.  In 
spite  of  the  frantic  efforts  of  the  Abyssinian  team, 
their  torch  is  extinguished  again  and  again,  and  it  is 
only  at  the  fifth  attempt  that  they  succeed  in  rushing 
the  fire  to  their  chapel.  Greeks  and  Russians  will  bear 
the  sacred  flame  to  Jaffa,  and  then  candle  after 
candle  will  be  kindled  on  shipboard,  until  at  last  the 
fire  shall  burn  in  the  cathedrals  of  Athens  and  Mos¬ 
cow  and  St.  Petersburg. 

The  soldiers  no  longer  attempt  to  hold  back  the 
wild  crowd.  Here  and  there  through  the  church, 
clusters  of  lights  spring  up.  Each  pilgrim  bears 
a  torch  made  of  a  dozen  or  two  tapers  tied  together  ; 

7  [97] 


t 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


so  the  flame  is  rapidly  passed  from  one  to  another. 
Bunches  of  tow  are  let  down  by  ropes  and, 
when  lighted,  are  pulled  up  again  to  the  gal¬ 
leries  of  the  rotunda.  Priests  come  out  through 
trap-doors  onto  the  roof  of  the  Chapel  of  the 
Sepulchre,  and  light  the  lamps  there.  But  my 
friend  the  American  priest  calls  my  attention  to  the 
fact  that  the  lamps  of  the  Roman  Catholics  are 
significantly  left  unlit.  Away  off  in  the  dark  laby¬ 
rinth  of  the  tremendous  building  scattered  lights 
appear;  and  soon  the  whole  Church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  is  one  lurid  mass  of  fire  and  smoke.  A 
quarter  of  a  million  candles  are  burning  with  the 
Holy  Fire.  The  already  vitiated  air  is  hot  and 
stifling.  Below  us  is  a  veritable  pandemonium,  a  red 
inferno,  through  whose  shifting  mists  we  can  see  only 
faintly  the  struggling  forms  which  fill  every  corner 
and  niche  of  the  ancient  church.  And  all  the  while 
the  great  bell  keeps  up  its  harsh,  monotonous  clang¬ 
ing,  and  ten  thousand  throats  are  roaring  out  a  chant 
which  is  half  a  praise  to  God  and  half  a  curse  upon 
their  fellow  men. 

Poor,  happy  pilgrims !  They  rub  the  sacred  soot 
upon  their  bodies  and  let  the  flame  play  around  their 
faces  and  their  naked  breasts.  It  will  not  bum  them, 
they  say.  They  will  save  these  candles,  and  in  far¬ 
away  Russia  and  Greece  and  Abyssinia  and  Egypt 
they  will  light  them  for  a  little  while  on  great  festal 
occasions,  while  the  untraveled  neighbors  sit  around 

[98] 


The  Chapel  of  the  Sepulchre 


Going  to  the  ceremony  of  the  Holy  Fire.  Notice  the  Turkish  soldiers 

at  the  right 


THE  HOLY  FIRE 


in  trembling  admiration.  The  very  caps  with  which 
the  light  is  snuffed  out  are  henceforth  holy,  and  some 
time  will  be  worn  on  ten  thousand  death-beds,  as  a 
.  sure  passport  to  paradise.  Poor  pilgrims  !  They  are 
so  happy  now.  You  can  see  it  on  their  homely,  care¬ 
worn  faces.  For  they  have  journeyed  far  to  see  the 
Holy  City,  and  they  have  lighted  their  candles  at  the 
very  flame  of  God ! 

All  night  long,  companies  of  worshippers  were 
passing  before  my  window,  shouting  jubilantly  and 
singing  their  hoarse,  minor  chants.  All  night,  too, 
the  city  shook  with  the  clanging  of  the  great  bell.  It 
was  still  ringing  at  sunrise  the  next  morning,  when  I 
left  Jerusalem  to  catch  my  steamer  at  Jaffa. 


[99] 


X 


VALLEYS  AND  TOMBS 


THE  topography  of  Jerusalem  will  be  most 
easily  understood  if,  without  trying  to  be  too 
exact,  we  think  of  the  city  as  occupying  a 
square,  fairly  level  platform,  whose  sides  face  the 
points  of  the  compass.  The  northern  edge  of  the 
square  is  about  on  a  level  with  the  adjacent  country. 
When  Jerusalem  has  been  captured,  it  has  always 
been  from  this  side.  On  the  east  is  the  Valley  of 
Kidron,  which  descends  very  rapidly  as  it  goes 
southward.  On  the  west,  the  Valley  of  Hinnom  fol¬ 
lows  the  line  of  the  fortifications  to  the  southwest 
corner  and  then  bends  eastward  to  join  the  Valley  of 
Kidron.  Thus  from  three  sides  Jerusalem  is  seen 
as  “a  city  set  on  a  hill,”  surrounded  by  moat-like 
valleys  which  are  deepest  at  the  southeast  corner, 
where  the  junction  of  Hinnom  and  Kidron  is  more 
than  four  hundred  feet  below  the  level  of  the  Haram 
esh-Sherif . 

The  only  part  of  the  Jerusalem  hill  which  lies  out¬ 
side  of  the  present  walls  is  the  “Zion”  suburb  at  the 
extreme  south,  where  there  are  modern  cemeteries  of 
the  Greeks,  Armenians,  Latins  and  Protestants, 


[100] 


0  F  r 


l 


VALLEYS  AND  TOMBS 


the  English  mission  school,  and  the  group  of  build¬ 
ings  which  contain  the  “upper  room”  of  the  Last 
Supper  and  the  “Tomb  of  David.”  This  last  is  held 
in  such  reverence  by  its  Moslem  owners  that  it  is 
practically  impossible  for  a  Christian  to  gain 
admission. 

Beyond  the  encircling  valleys,  the  “mountains 
round  about  Jerusalem”  rise  a  few  hundred  feet 
above  the  city,  like  an  outer  series  of  ramparts.  The 
highest  of  these  surrounding  hills  is  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  which  runs  parallel  to  the  eastern  wall. 

In  the  center  of  the  northern  wall  is  the  Damas¬ 
cus  Gate,  which  in  Arabic  is  called  Bab  el-Amud ,  or 
the  “Gate  of  the  Columns,”  from  the  slender  columns 
on  the  inside  of  the  portal.  This  is  by  far  the 
largest  and  most  imposing  of  all  the  entrances  to 
the  Holy  City,  with  heavy  towers  flanking  it  on 
either  side,  and  elaborately  castellated  battlements, 
and  the  ruins  of  a  room  over  the  gate,  like  that  where 
David  sat  while  the  watchman  on  the  tower  above 
looked  for  the  herald  with  the  news  of  the  battle  with 
Absalom. 

From  the  top  of  the  gate  you  get  one  of  the  finest 
views  of  Jerusalem.  The  city  is  one  sea  of  domes, 
ranging  in  size  from  the  myriad  little  domes  over 
single  rooms  and  dwelling-houses  up  to  the  large 
domes  of  the  Jewish  synagogues  at  the  far  southern 
end  of  the  city  and  the  great  “Dome  of  the  Rock,” 
whose  splendid  silhouette  stands  out  above  all  the 


[101] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


rest  against  the  background  of  blue  sky.  Almost 
every  roof  has  its  low  parapet  of  tiles,  with  the  orna¬ 
mental  clusters  of  triangular  openings  which  form 
a  distinctive  feature  of  Jerusalem  architecture. 

The  street  below  us,  Damascus  Street,  or  more 
properly  “the  Street  of  the  Gate  of  the  Columns,” 
is  one  of  the  longest,  straightest  and  broadest  in  the 
city.  Just  inside  the  gate  it  is  twenty  or  twenty- 
five  feet  wide ;  but  it  soon  grows  narrower,  and  is 
lost  to  view  beneath  the  awnings  which  stretch 
across  it  from  house  to  house. 

Every  once  in  a  while  some  enterprising  American 
newspaper  publishes  a  story  about  the  proposed  con¬ 
struction  of  a  trolley  S3^stem  in  Jerusalem — which 
is  quite  absurd,  because  there  is  no  street  wide 
enough  to  accommodate  even  a  single  track. 
Indeed,  except  at  the  square  by  the  Jaffa  Gate, 
there  are  no  carriages  found  inside  of  the  walls. 
The  streets  are  narrow,  winding,  hilly  and  slippery. 
They  go  up  and  down  flights  of  rough  stone  stairs. 
They  often  cut  right  through  buildings ;  so  that  a 
tall  man  has  to  bow  his  head  as  he  walks  through 
the  low,  arched  passageway.  Even  horseback  riding 
is  unsafe ;  and  until  the  hills  are  leveled,  the  houses 
torn  down  and  the  entire  city  rebuilt,  the  only 
method  of  locomotion  through  Jerusalem  will  be  on 
foot,  or  on  the  back  of  a  sure-footed  donkey  who  is 
not  disconcerted  when  the  narrow  road  turns 
abruptly  down  a  steep  stairway  whose  slanting  steps 

[102] 


Gordon’s  Calvary  ”  and  the  Grotto  of  Jeremiah  (at  the  right) 


Looking  up  the  Valley  of  Kidron  toward  the  southeastern 
corner  of  Jerusalem  and  (on  the  right)  the  village  of  Siloam 


VALLEYS  AND  TOMBS 


The  Immediate  Environs  of  Jerusalem — i,  The  Sultan’s  Pool; 
2,  The  “Coenaculum,”  containing  the  reputed  Tomb  of  David, 
and  the  Chamber  of  the  Last  Supper;  3,  The  Fountain  of  the 
Virgin;  4,  The  Tomb  of  Zacharias;  5,  The  Tomb  of  Absalom; 
6,  The  Latin  Gethsemane;  7,  The  Tomb  of  the  Virgin;  8,  The 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre;  9,  The  Citadel 

[103] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


are  covered  with  a  thin  sheet  of  running  water  and 
sewage. 

A  little  way  to  the  east  of  the  Damascus  Gate,  out¬ 
side  of  the  city  wall,  is  the  entrance  to  the  Ma- 
ghdret  el-Kettdn  or  “Cotton  Grotto”  (“cotton”  is  an 
Arabic  word),  one  of  the  quarries  from  which  build¬ 
ing-stone  was  taken  for  ancient  Jerusalem.  This  is 
apparently  the  cave  in  which,  after  Titus  had  cap¬ 
tured  the  city,  two  thousand  Jews  took  refuge  with 
their  treasures,  only  to  perish  miserably  from 
hunger. 

The  excavation,  which  is  also  known  as  “Sol¬ 
omon’s  Quarries,”  extends  over  six  hundred  feet  to 
the  southward,  straight  under  the  center  of  Jeru¬ 
salem.  It  must  contain  a  mile  or  more  of  subterra¬ 
nean  galleries,  which  open  now  and  then  into  high 
rooms,  some  of  which  are  as  large  as  a  church,  and 
have  their  roofs  supported  by  huge  pillars.  In  these 
quarries  can  still  be  seen  the  niches  for  the  lamps 
of  the  workmen,  and  holes  made  in  the  rock  for  the 
wooden  wedges,  which  were  driven  in  tightly  and 
then  wetted,  so  that  their  swelling  might  break  off 
the  blocks  of  stone. 

Across  the  road,  in  the  cliff  opposite  the  entrance 
to  the  Cotton  Grotto,  is  the  “Grotto  of  Jeremiah.” 
This  is  now  a  Moslem  sanctuary.  The  excavation  in 
the  hillside  is  walled-in  and  partly  plastered,  and 
contains  a  number  of  small  buildings  and  tombs, 
while  several  large  cisterns  lie  in  the  rock  beneath. 

[104] 


VALLEYS  AND  TOMBS 


According  to  local  tradition,  one  of  these  cisterns  is 
that  in  which  Jeremiah  was  imprisoned.  The 
prophet  is  said  to  have  written  his  Lamentations  in 
this  quarry,  and  his  sepulchre  is  also  pointed  out 
here  by  the  Moslem  custodians. 

According  to  some  travelers,  the  excavations  in 
this  hill  resemble  the  eye-sockets  of  a  great  skull, 
and  therefore  a  few  authorities,  chiefly  English  and 
American,  regard  the  summit  above  the  Grotto  of 
Jeremiah  as  Golgotha,  “the  Place  of  the  Skull.” 
General  Gordon  was  very  much  interested  in  the 
proposed  identification,  and  the  place  is  consequently 
often  referred  to  as  “Gordon’s  Calvary.” 

Under  the  brow  of  the  hill  is  a  small  rock-hewn 
sepulchre,  with  two  tomb-niches,  only  one  of  which 
has  been  finished  (see  Luke  23:53),  and  in  front  of 
the  low  doorway  is  a  groove  in  which  was  rolled  the 
stone  (now  missing)  which  sealed  the  entrance.  This 
tomb  is  so  like  the  description  of  the  burial-place  of 
Christ  that  it  recalls  the  Gospel  story  very  much 
more  vividly  than  does  the  built-up  and  marble-cov¬ 
ered  “Sepulchre”  in  the  church  within  the  city.  The 
surroundings,  too,  are  more  quiet  and  attractive. 
The  grounds  are  well  kept  up  by  English  Protes¬ 
tants,  who  have  laid  out  around  the  tomb  a  little 
garden;  and  altogether,  though  this  is  probably  not 
the  Holy  Sepulchre,  there  is  no  spot  in  or  around 
Jerusalem  where  the  Resurrection  seems  so  real  as 
it  does  here  in  the  quiet  garden  on  the  hillside. 

[105] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


A  half-mile  north  of  the  Damascus  Gate  there  is 
an  extensive  series  of  catacombs  known  popularly 
as  the  “Tombs  of  the  Kings”  (i.  e.  of  Judah).  Prob¬ 
ably,  however,  this  was  the  family  sepulchre  of 
Queen  Helena  (not  St.  Helena)  of  Adiabene  in 
Assyria,  who  became  converted  to  Judaism  about 
the  middle  of  the  first  century,  and  took  up  her 
residence  in  Jerusalem,  where  she  bestowed  numerous 
benefactions  upon  the  inhabitants. 

We  approach  the  sepulchre  by  a  stairway,  thirty 
feet  wide,  which  descends  to  an  open  court,  about 
a  hundred  feet  square.  This  is  cut  in  the  solid  rock, 
so  that  its  floor  is  twenty  feet  below  the  surface  of 
the  surrounding  hillside.  At  one  side  of  the  court 
there  is  a  huge  portal,  fifteen  feet  high  and  nearly 
forty  feet  wide,  which  must  have  once  been  the  most 
beautiful  piece  of  sculpture  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Jerusalem.  Around  the  great  doorway  can  still  be 
seen  some  of  the  elaborate  and  intricate  carvings  of 
fruits  and  flowers,  in  the  ornate  style  of  the  later 
Roman  period. 

From  the  vestibule  we  enter  the  sepulchre  itself 
through  a  small  door,  beside  which  is  the  stone  which 
closed  the  opening.  Within  is  an  extensive  labyrinth 
of  chambers,  on  two  different  levels,  whose  sides  are 
lined  with  the  square  openings  of  shaft-tombs  sit¬ 
uated  so  that  the  body  lay  perpendicularly  to  the 
walls.  One  of  the  rooms  near  the  entrance  contained 
no  such  shafts,  but  only  a  very  richly  decorated 


[106] 


VALLEYS  AND  TOMBS 


sarcophagus  (now  in  the  Louvre  at  Paris),  which 
may  have  been  that  of  Queen  Helena  herself. 

A  little  farther  to  the  north  are  the  catacombs 
known  as  the  “Tombs  of  the  Judges.”  But  we  shall 
not  have  time  to  visit  all  of  the  sepulchres  which  sur¬ 
round  the  city.  There  is  an  underground  Jerusalem 
which  in  many  respects  is  more  wonderful  than  that 
on  which  the  sun  shines.  In  every  hillside  are  rock- 
hewn  burial-places,  some  of  them  with  labyrinthine 
passages  leading  to  an  intricate  series  of  tomb 
chambers.  Besides  the  hundreds  of  private  cisterns, 
there  are  beneath  the  houses  of  the  city  scores  of 
dark,  low  reservoirs,  some  of  them  so  large  that  their 
farther  end  cannot  be  seen  by  the  light  of  a  torch. 
There  are  natural  caves  and  ancient  quarries  and 
subterranean  store-houses.  In  fact,  the  rock  on 
which  the  Holy  City  stands  is  fairly  honeycombed 
with  mysterious  caverns.  New  and  unexpected  dis¬ 
coveries  are  continually  being  made  by  foreign  resi¬ 
dents  and  archaeologists ;  yet  this  underground  J eru- 
salem  has  yet  to  be  thoroughly  explored. 

On  account  of  the  peculiar  configuration  of  the 
surrounding  valleys,  Jerusalem  can  grow  only  to  the 
north,  and  the  very  different  areas  of  the  city  at 
different  centuries  have  been  formed  by  moving 
back  and  forth  the  northern  wall.  At  the  present 
time  the  suburbs  to  the  northwest  are  larger  in 
extent,  though  not  in  population,  than  the  city 
within  the  fortifications.  Here  are  half  a  dozen  or 


[107] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


more  Jewish  colonies,  and  most  of  the  foreign 
consulates,  and  a  number  of  monasteries,  of 
which  the  Russian  is  the  largest.  In  fact  there  is 
here  a  kind  of  Slavic  walled  city,  with  a  cathedral, 
consulate,  several  hospices  for  pilgrims  and  a  public 
garden. 

But  this  new  and  foreign  suburb  has  little  to 
attract  our  attention ;  so  we  ride  rapidly  along  the 
western  wall  of  the  city,  past  the  Jaffa  Gate  and  the 
citadel  and  the  Pool  of  the  Sultan,  which  have 
already  been  visited. 

Just  below  the  great  reservoir,  the  Valley  of 
Hinnom  turns  sharply  to  the  east,  and  descends 
rapidly  between  steep  hillsides  which  shut  off  the 
breeze,  so  that  this  is  the  hottest  part  of  the  imme¬ 
diate  environs  of  Jerusalem.  The  hill  at  the  south 
is  variously  called  the  “Hill  of  Tombs,”  the  “Hill 
of  the  Field  of  Blood”  and  the  “Mount  of  Evil 
Counsel.”  The  depression  in  front  of  us  is  known 
as  the  “Valley  of  Fire.”  The  ancient  name  was 
Tophet ,  the  “Place  of  Burning.”  The  names  are 
all  significant  of  the  unattractive  appearance  and 
iniquitous  history  of  the  locality.  Here  in  the  Val¬ 
ley  of  Hinnom,  which  in  Hebrew  was  called  Gehenna, 
children  used  to  be  sacrificed  to  the  god  Moloch. 
From  time  immemorial  Gehenna  has  been  one  great 
sepulchre,  so  hot  and  dead  and  dusty  and  desolate 
that  Jews,  Christians  and  Moslems  alike  have  come 
to  use  its  name  as  a  synonym  for  hell.  So  Milton — 

[108] 


VALLEYS  AND  TOMBS 


“Tophet  thence 

And  black  Gehenna  call’d  the  type  of  hell.” 

On  the  hill  to  our  left  is  a  Jewish  burying  ground; 
the  hill  to  the  right  is  one  mass  of  tombs.  This  must 
have  been  the  ancient  necropolis  of  Jerusalem.  Some 
of  the  sepulchres  have  richly  carved  portals,  with 
flights  of  steps  leading  to  them.  Some  are  mere 
holes  in  the  rock.  Some  consist  of  several  chambers 
with  burial-shafts  opening  from  their  sides.  Some 
are  catacombs  of  considerable  size.  Some  are  clut¬ 
tered  and  dirty.  Some  have  been  “cleansed”  and 
decorated  with  mediaeval  religious  frescoes.  Some 
are  now  used  as  chapels.  Some  bear  half-legible 
inscriptions  in  Hebrew.  One  is  known  by  the  Greeks 
as  “the  cave  of  the  giant  saint  Onophrius.”  One  was 
apparently  the  burial-place  of  Roman  pilgrims.  One 
is  the  tomb  of  a  girl  named  Thekla.  But  the  most 
impressive  thing  about  them  is  just  their  mere  num¬ 
ber,  and  the  pathetic  futility  of  the  individual 
achievements  they  were  designed  to  perpetuate. 

Near  the  bottom  of  the  valley  is  the  Aceldama ,  or 
Building  of  the  Field  of  Blood,  which  the  natives 
strangely  call  “Paradise.”  This  is  a  charnel  house, 
with  its  back  in  the  hillside.  During  the  Middle 
Ages  it  was  a  favorite  spot  for  the  burial  of  pil¬ 
grims.  Its  soil  was  believed  to  possess  the  miracu¬ 
lous  power  of  decomposing  bodies  in  one  day;  and 
ship-loads  of  the  wonderful  earth  were  carried  from 

[109] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


here  in  the  year  1218  to  cover  the  Campo  Santo  of 
Pisa.  The  Aceldama  consists  of  a  large  square 
room  with  an  arched  roof  and  badly  damaged  walls, 
in  which  are  two  niches  filled  with  bones.  Under¬ 
neath  the  rubbish  at  the  bottom  of  the  building 
lie  more  bones,  an  incredible  number  of  them, 
packed  closely  together  for  a  depth  of  at  least  six 
feet. 

We  now  leave  Gehenna  and  turn  northward  to 
ride  up  the  Valley  of  Kidron.  At  our  right,  on  the 
steep  slope  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  is  the  miserable 
village  of  Siloam.  From  a  distance  it  can  hardly 
be  distinguished  against  the  hillside ;  for  the  houses 
are  built  up  of  native  rock,  and  indeed,  are  often 
nothing  more  or  less  than  ancient  Jewish  tombs,  with 
a  few  rough  stones  piled  up  across  the  opening. 
These  were  once  the  habitations  of  the  dead;  later 
on  they  were  the  cells  of  hermits.  Now  they  shelter 
a  squalid  and  filthy  population  of  Moslems,  who  are 
notorious  as  thieves. 

At  the  left  of  the  road  are  the  Pools  of  Siloam ; 
for  there  are  two  of  them.  The  lower  and  larger 
reservoir  is  now  dry,  or  rather  is  filled  with  a  moist 
mass  of  unspeakable  filth  and  ordure.  The  Syrians 
call  it  the  “Red  Pool.”  Our  road  passes  along  the 
top  of  the  lower  dam,  which  is  over  forty  feet  thick 
and  once  formed  part  of  the  outer  fortifications  of 
the  city.  On  this  dam  is  shown  a  very  old  mulberry 
tree,  now  buttressed  by  stones,  underneath  which 


[110] 


In  the  foreground  is  the  upper  Pool  of  Siloam,  back  of  which  is 
seen  the  “  Red  Pool  ”  and  the  tree  of  Isaiah’s  martyrdom  4 


The  Tomb  of  Absalom  and  the  Russian  Church  on  the 

Mount  of  Olives 


VALLEYS  AND  TOMBS 


tradition  says  that  the  prophet  Isaiah  was  sawn 
asunder  in  the  presence  of  the  wicked  king  Manasseh. 

The  upper  Pool  of  Siloam,  which  is  still  called  by 
its  ancient  name,  is  the  smallest  of  the  circle  of  outer 
reservoirs  of  Jerusalem,  yet  the  one  with  the  most 
interesting  and  authentic  history ;  and  on  account 
of  its  connection  with  Old  Testament  events,  as  well 
as  the  New  Testament  miracle,  this  little  pool  has 
long  been  considered  sacred  by  Jews,  Christians  and 
Moslems.  All  sorts  of  curious  legends  have  grown 
up  about  it.  The  water  really  comes  through  a 
rock-tunnel  from  the  Fountain  of  the  Virgin  which  we 
shall  pass  a  quarter  of  a  mile  farther  on;  but  the 
Christains  used  to  think  that  it  came  from  Shiloh, 
while  the  Moslems  say  that  on  a  certain  night  in  the 
year  the  water  flows  from  the  sacred  well  Zem  Zem  at 
Mecca.  In  the  fifth  century  a  church  was  built  over 
the  pool,  and  in  the  twelfth  century  a  monastery  was 
erected  here.  Recent  excavations  have  revealed  the 
ruins  of  the  once  beautiful  church ;  but  the  walls  of 
the  pool  are  now  fallen  in,  and  the  bottom  is  covered 
with  filth  and  rubbish.  Yet  wTe  saw  a  number  of 
women  filling  their  water-skins  with  the  muddy  mix¬ 
ture  that  had  collected  at  one  end  of  the  pool. 

At  this  southeast  angle  of  Jerusalem  the  fortifi¬ 
cations  reach  their  greatest  height  and  massiveness. 
Near  the  corner,  the  wall  rises  over  seventy  feet  above 
the  present  level  of  the  hillside,  and  extends  down 
almost  as  far  through  the  accumulated  debris  to  the 


[111] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


rock  foundation  of  the  ancient  city.  The  configura¬ 
tion  of  Jerusalem  has  been  considerably  altered 
through  the  deposit  of  the  rubbish  and  ruins  of  the 
centuries.  The  ancient  bed  of  the  brook  Kidron  is  in 
places  thirty-eight  feet  lower  than  the  present  surface 
of  the  valley.  The  Tyropoeon  Valley  also,  which  cut 
across  the  city  from  northwest  to  southeast  between 
Mount  Zion  and  the  Temple  Mount,  has  been  so 
largely  filled  up  that  it  is  likely  to  escape  the  notice 
of  the  casual  visitor.  Through  a  large  part  of  the 
area  within  the  fortifications,  the  old  Hebrew  city 
lies  buried  at  a  considerable  depth  beneath  the  mod¬ 
ern  streets. 

The  steep,  rocky  slope  of  the  Mount  of  Olives 
opposite  the  southern  end  of  the  Haram  esh-Sherif 
is  covered  with  hundreds  and  thousands  of  flat  Jew¬ 
ish  tombstones,  which  in  places  are  so  crowded 
together  that  it  would  be  hard  to  find  room  to  dig 
a  new  grave  between  those  already  existing.  Along¬ 
side  of  the  road,  three  or  four  more  imposing  sepul¬ 
chres  rise  above  the  multitude  of  common  graves. 
The  first  of  these  is  a  temple-like  monument  thirty 
feet  high,  hewn  out  of  the  native  rock  of  the  hill¬ 
side.  Both  Jews  and  Christians  call  it  the  “Tomb 
of  Zacharias,”  but  they  differ  as  to  which  of  the 
notable  persons  bearing  this  name  was  buried  here. 
Nearby,  a  Doric  portico  cut  in  the  rock  leads  to  a 
small  catacomb  known  as  the  “Grotto  of  St.  James,” 
because  the  apostle  is  said  to  have  hidden  here  dur- 


[112] 


VALLEYS  AND  TOMBS 


ing  the  trial  and  crucifixion  of  Christ.  The  last  of 
these  larger  tombs  is  a  tall,  separated  building,  the 
main  part  of  which  has  also  been  cut  out  of  the  hill; 
but  as  the  surrounding  rock  did  not  rise  high  enough, 
the  superstructure  had  to  be  built  on  afterwards. 
The  sepulchre  is  more  than  fifty  feet  high,  and  is 
crowned  by  a  kind  of  combination  of  spire  and  dome, 
shaped  something  like  a  fool’s  cap.  Indeed,  the 
Arabic  name  for  the  monument  is  “Pharaoh’s  Cap.” 
The  Jews  believe  this  to  be  the  tomb  of  the  traitor 
Absalom ;  so  they  spit  upon  it  and  throw  stones  at 
it  as  they  pass  by. 

Where  the  road  from  St.  Stephen’s  Gate  to  the 
Mount  of  Olives  crosses  our  road  up  the  Kidron 
Valley,  there  has  been  a  church  since  long  before  the 
Moslems  captured  Jerusalem,  although  the  present 
building  dates  only  from  the  First  Crusade.  It  is  a 
strange  church ;  for  the  only  part  above  ground  is 
the  entrance  porch,  which  itself  is  in  a  kind  of  pit  in 
the  bottom  of  the  valley.  From  this  porch  a  long, 
broad  flight  of  sixty  marble  steps  leads  down  thirty- 
five  feet  into  a  low,  dark  church,  which  is  hardly 
larger  than  the  stairway  by  which  it  is  reached.  In 
a  niche  half-way  down  the  stairs  is  shown  the  tomb 
of  Joseph  of  Nazareth,  and  a  corresponding  opening 
on  the  other  side  contains  the  traditional  tombs  of 
Joachim  and  Anne,  the  parents  of  the  Virgin.  In  the 
center  of  the  subterranean  church  is  a  kind  of  minia¬ 
ture  reproduction  of  the  Chapel  of  the  Sepulchre, 

8  [113] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


which  contains  the  sarcophagus  of  the  Virgin,  who 
is  said  to  have  lain  here  until  her  assumption  into 
heaven. 

Not  only  the  Jews,  but  also  the  Moslems  and  native 
Christians,  believe  that  the  Valley  of  Kidron  will 
be  the  scene  of  the  Last  Judgment,  when  the  hills 
on  either  side  will  move  apart,  in  order  to  allow 
room  for  the  innumerable  multitude  which  will 
assemble  here.  Accordingly  the  Moslems  have  a 
burying-ground  on  the  western  side  of  the  valley, 
just  under  the  walls  of  the  Haram.  Back  of  these 
tombs  is  a  city  gate,  which  is  now,  however,  closed. 
It  has  perhaps  not  been  used  for  general  traffic  since 
the  time  of  Ezekiel’s  vision,  when  it  was  commanded 
to  be  shut  because  “the  God  of  Israel  hath  entered 
in  by  it”  (Ezek.  44:2).  The  Crusaders  opened  it 
only  for  the  Palm  Sunday  procession.  Since  the 
early  centuries  of  our  era,  Christians  have  known 
this  as  the  “Golden  Gate.”  The  Moslems  call  it  the 
“Eternal  Gate” ;  and  one  of  its  walled-up  arches 
they  have  named  the  “Gate  of  Mercy”  and  the  other 
the  “Gate  of  Repentance.”  They  say  that  at  the 
end  of  the  world  a  king  (according  to  some,  Jesus 
the  son  of  Mary)  will  enter  through  the  Eternal 
Gate  and  abolish  the  rule  of  Islam  and  reign  in 
Jerusalem  over  the  whole  earth. 


[114] 


XI 


THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES 

SOMEHOW  I  had  alwa}7s  thought  of  the  Mount 
of  Olives  as  a  small,  distant,  wooded,  secluded 
retreat.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Mount  of 
Olives  is  the  most  prominent  elevation  within  the  cir¬ 
cuit  of  what  we  might  call  “Greater  Jerusalem.”  It 
is  higher  than  the  city,  longer  than  the  city,  so  near 
that  you  can  literally  throw  a  stone  across  the  inter¬ 
vening  valley,  and  the  summit  of  the  hill  shows  many 
stretches  of  rock  and  sterile  soil,  which  probably 
never  were  covered  with  vegetation.  For  the  traveler, 
the  Mount  of  Olives,  slightly  curving  to  parallel  the 
curve  of  the  Jerusalem  hill,  is  like  a  dress-circle 
from  which  he  looks  down  upon  an  open-air  theatre, 
whose  stage  is  the  platform  of  the  Hararn  esh-Sherif, 
and  whose  back-drop  and  flies  are  the  massed  houses 
of  the  surrounding  city. 

On  account  of  the  steep  pitch  of  the  slope  on  the 
east  of  Jerusalem,  there  is  only  a  single  road  from 
the  city  to  the  Mount  of  Olives ;  the  one  passing 
from  St.  Stephen’s  Gate  at  the  north  of  the  Haram 
down  to  the  Tomb  of  the  Virgin  at  the  bottom  of  the 
Valley  of  Kidron.  Here,  however,  the  road  divides 

[115] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


into  three  or  four  branches,  which  ascend  the 
“Mount”  at  various  degrees  of  steepness.  The  best 
carriage  road  is  none  too  easy :  the  worst  bridle-path 
rises  four  hundred  feet  in  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

In  the  hollow  of  the  valley  near  the  Virgin’s  Tomb 
is  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  that  is,  the  Roman 
Catholic  Garden.  A  little  higher  up  the  hill  the 
Greeks  have  their  own  Gethsemane,  which,  however, 
receives  little  consideration  from  Western  travelers. 
The  Latin  site  lies  in  the  fork  of  the  road,  and  is 
surrounded  by  high,  irregular  walls,  into  which  are 
set  the  Stations  of  the  Cross.  The  little  garden  (it 
is  hardly  two  hundred  feet  across)  is  very  attrac¬ 
tively  laid  out,  with  winding  paths  and  symmetrical 
beds  of  grass  and  flowers,  and  contains  a  number 
of  tall  cypress  trees,  besides  olive  trees  of  such 
ancient  and  weather-beaten  appearance  that  you 
almost  believe  the  monks  when  they  tell  you  that 
these  trees  were  standing  here  in  the  time  of  Christ. 

This  seems  to  have  been  another  sacred  place  whose 
position  was  fixed  upon  at  the  time  of  the  visit  of  St. 
Helena,  and  nearly  all  modern  writers  believe  that 
Gethsemane  was  somewhere  in  this  general  locality. 
The  garden  is  shaded  and  cool  and  quiet,  shut  out  by 
the  high  wall  from  the  dusty  roads  which  pass  so  close 
on  either  side.  Nothing  can  be  seen  of  Jerusalem 
except  the  lofty  fortifications,  above  which  rises  the 
dome  of  the  Mosque  of  Omar.  It  is  a  beautiful  and 
fitting  place  for  meditation  and  prayer. 

[116] 


THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES 


The  hillside  above  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  is 
dotted  with  a  number  of  scattered  olive  trees,  and 
there  are  a  few  orchards ;  but  as  a  rule  the  great  bare 
spots  are  far  more  prominent.  Right  in  the  middle 
of  the  slope  is  the  Greek  Church  of  St.  Mary  Mag¬ 
dalene,  a  gaudy  and  inappropriate  structure  erected 
by  the  Russian  Emperor  in  1888  and,  according  to 
local  gossip,  painted  a  new — and  uglier — color  every 
year  since. 

The  ridge  of  the  hill  is  covered  now  with  a  long, 
loose  cluster  of  buildings.  At  the  northern  end  are 
catacombs ;  at  the  southern  end  is  the  labyrinth  of 
the  “Tombs  of  the  Prophets”;  in  the  middle  is  a 
small  and  miserable  village,  inhabited  apparently 
chiefly  by  importunate  beggars.  Scattered  between, 
are  churches  and  monasteries  and  mission-houses. 

If  the  Chapel  of  the  Ascension  at  the  north  end  of 
the  village  were  the  original  building  which  was 
erected  here  by  St.  Helena  in  the  year  326,  it  would 
dispute  the  claim  of  the  Bethlehem  church  to  be  the 
oldest  Christian  house  of  worship  in  the  world.  But 
Helena’s  basilica  was  long  ago  destroyed.  The 
modern  chapel  is  in  the  court  of  a  mosque  and 
belongs  to  the  Moslems,  who  also  regard  it  as  a  holy 
place.  They  allow  the  Christians,  however,  to  cele¬ 
brate  mass  here  occasionally.  Within  the  chapel  is 
shown  the  footprint  of  Christ,  which  has  been  fre¬ 
quently  renewed,  and  changed  in  shape  and  position. 
Of  course  the  only  indubitable  fact  about  the  chapel 

[117] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


is  that  the  Gospels  make  it  plain  that  the  Ascension 
did  not  take  place  from  anywhere  near  here.  This 
site  was  doubtless  fixed  upon  by  the  early  Chris¬ 
tians  because  of  its  magnificent  outlook.  Indeed, 
until  very  recently,  the  finest  panorama  of  Jeru¬ 
salem  was  that  obtained  from  the  minaret  of  the 
enclosing  mosque. 

Now,  however,  the  six-story  belvedere  tower  of  the 
neighboring  Russian  monastery  provides  a  far 
broader  outlook.  The  tower  itself  is  the  most  promi¬ 
nent  structure  in  all  Palestine;  and  the  view  from 
it  is,  in  many  respects,  the  most  varied  and  fascinat¬ 
ing  in  the  world.  Jerusalem  lies  almost  directly 
underneath ;  a  large  part  of  southern  Palestine  can 
be  seen  with  the  definiteness  of  a  map;  while  to  the 
east  the  Wilderness  of  Judea  drops  down  almost 
4,000  feet  to  the  Jordan  Valley  and  the  Dead  Sea, 
beyond  which  are  visible  the  mountains  of  Moab  as 
far  as  Kerak,  sixty  miles  to  the  southeast.  The 
most  powerful  church  in  Palestine  is  the  Greek  Ortho¬ 
dox,  of  which  the  Czar  is  the  natural  protector  and 
champion;  and  it  is  rumored  around  Jerusalem  that 
the  real  object  in  erecting  this  lofty  structure  was 
to  provide  a  military  observation-tower  for  use  at 
some  nearby  time,  when  the  breaking  out  of  the  long- 
expected  war  with  Turkey  shall  provide  a  pretext 
for  still  further  strengthening  the  foothold  of  Russia 
in  the  Holy  Land. 

At  the  southern  end  of  the  village  are  a  number 


The  Mount  of  Olives  from  St.  Stephen’s  Gate.  The  tall  cypress 
trees  are  in  the  Latin  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  opposite  the 
nearest  corner  of  which  is  the  entrance  to  the  Tomb 

of  the  Virgin 


Jerusalem  from  the  Mount  of  Olives.  Back  of  the  center  of  the 
long  line  of  Moslem  graves  are  the  two  closed  entrances 

of  the  Golden  Gate 


THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES 


of  buildings  belonging  to  the  Roman  Catholic  monks. 
The  Church  of  the  Creed  is  a  half-subterranean  struc¬ 
ture,  whose  roof  rises  only  a  few  feet  above  the 
ground ;  so  that  it  resembles  the  Catholic  churches 
which  are  so  often  seen  in  America,  finished  only  as 
far  as  the  top  of  the  foundation  walls,  while  for 
years  services  are  held  in  what  will  later  be  the 
cellar  or  crypt  of  the  completed  building.  The  place 
where  Christ  is  said  to  have  taught  His  disciples 
the  Lord’s  Prayer  is  marked  by  a  really  beautiful 
quadrangular  cloister,  around  whose  sides  are  marble 
slabs  bearing  the  Prayer  in  thirty-two  different 
languages. 

It  is  only  a  few  minutes’  walk  over  the  brow  of 
the  Mount  of  Olives  to  the  little  village  of  Bethany, 
where  Christ  lodged  during  the  week  before  His 
crucifixion.  But  there  is  nothing  worth  seeing  in 
Bethany,  which  is  now  an  unusually  squalid  hamlet 
of  forty  or  fifty  houses,  with  a  badly  ruined  mediaeval 
fort  which  the  natives  call  the  “Castle  of  Lazarus,” 
and  the  “Tomb  of  Lazarus,”  which  the  Moslem  vil¬ 
lagers  guard  very  jealously.  So  we  shall  rather  sit 
under  one  of  the  old  olive  trees  on  the  western  slope 
of  the  hill,  and  look  down  upon  the  splendid  pano¬ 
rama  which  is  spread  out  before  us. 

In  spite  of  the  very  ancient  tradition  which 
places  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  at  the  bottom  of 
the  Valley  of  Kidron,  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  He 
who  so  loved  Jerusalem  would  not  have  chosen  for 


[119] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


His  favorite  retreat  a  spot  down  there,  two  hundred 
feet  beneath  the  Temple  Area,  where  nothing  of  the 
city  could  be  seen  except  its  grim  walls  and  the 
graves  beside  them ;  but  would  rather  have  rested 
and  prayed  in  some  orchard  like  this,  near  the  top 
of  the  hill,  from  which  He  could  gaze  across  the 
narrow  valley  and  see  spread  out  before  Him  the 
whole  city  over  which  He  yearned  and  the  Temple 
whose  daily  offering  was  the  prototype  of  His  own 
sacrifice. 

As  Dean  Stanley  said,  “No  human  being  could  be 
disappointed  who  first  saw  Jerusalem  from  the  east.” 
Right  below  you  is  the  deep  valley  of  Kidron,  beyond 
which  the  Holy  City  lies  upon  its  hilltop,  just  enough 
lower  than  the  Mount  of  Olives  so  that  every  part 
of  it  can  be  easily  seen,  so  near  that  each  house  is 
distinctly  visible  and,  as  it  seems,  purposely  tilted 
up  a  little,  for  the  greater  convenience  of  the 
spectator. 

The  focus  of  the  picture  is  the  bright-colored 
“Dome  of  the  Rock,”  which  rises  symmetrically  in 
the  center  of  the  brown,  level  Haram  area.  Back  of 
it  and  at  the  right  are  the  thickly  clustered,  whitish 
domes  of  the  city.  The  roofs  and  towers  of  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  can  be  distinguished  by  one 
who  knows  where  to  look  for  them ;  but  they  do  not 
stand  out  so  conspicuously  as  the  minaret'  which 
marks  the  site  of  the  Castle  of  Antonia  at  the  north 
of  the  Haram  esh-Sherif,  or  the  dark  walls  of  the 


[120] 


THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES 


citadel  by  the  Jaffa  Gate  at  the  farther  side  of  the 
city,  or  the  shining  new  steeple  of  the  German 
Church  which  was  dedicated  in  1898  by  the  Kaiser. 
In  front  and  at  the  left,  the  wall  of  the  city  rests 
on  the  hardly  less  precipitous  side  of  the  valley. 
In  the  distant  background  are  the  soft  tints  of  the 
gently  rolling  hills.  Affer  the  first  curious  glimpse, 
however,  you  do  not  notice  the  details  of  the  pano¬ 
rama.  Four  elements  make  up  the  picture;  the  gray 
walls  upon  the  valley’s  edge,  the  white  city,  the  back¬ 
ground  of  hills,  and,  standing  uncrowded  on  the  cen¬ 
tral  platform,  as  though  all  the  rest  were  only  a 
setting  for  this  one  gem,  the  peerless  “Dome  of  the 
Kock.” 

Viewed  thus  from  the  Mount  of  Olives,  the  Holy 
City  is  beautiful,  even  in  this  day  of  its  bondage  and 
shame.  And  sometimes  when  the  morning  sun  rises 
from  behind  Mount  Nebo  and  sends  its  first  long, 
level  ray  across  the  wilderness  to  touch  the  dome  of 
Omar  with  a  flaming  splendor,  the  watcher  on  Olivet 
is  given  a  vision  of  what  Jerusalem  must  have  been 
in  the  days  of  its  glory,  when,  where  the  Moslem 
mosque  now  stands,  the  golden  front  of  the  Temple 
flashed  back  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun,  and  where 
the  muezzin  sings  shrilly  that  Mohammed  is  the 
prophet  of  Allah,  the  sweet  savor  of  the  morning 
sacrifice  rose  upward  to  the  Lord  God  of  Israel. 


[121] 


XII 


THE  RIVER  THAT  GOES  DOWN 

DO  not  all  rivers  flow  down?  Yes,  of  course;  but 
not  so  obviously  as  this  one.  Therefore  was 
it  named  Jordan  (Hebrew,  Yarden ),  which 
means  “that  which  goes  down.” 

A  straight  line  from  the  farthest  accepted  source 
of  the  Jordan  to  its  mouth  measures  only  115  miles; 
the  total  length  of  the  winding  stream  is  somewhere 
between  225  and  25 0  miles.  Yet  the  fall  of  the  little 
Palestinian  river  is  3,000  feet ;  that  is,  it  “goes 
down”  farther  than  the  Mississippi  and  the  Volga 
added  together,  whose  combined  length  is  4,800  miles. 

The  Jordan  begins  among  the  clean,  fresh  breezes 
and  shaded  groves  and  bubbling  springs  of  the 
mountainside  where  the  old  nature-gods  had  their 
shrines.  It  ends  at  the  lowest,  hottest,  dreariest  spot 
on  the  whole  earth.  It  is  nowhere  a  navigable 
stream.  The  Jews  hardly  ever  referred  to  it  as  the 
Jordan  River.  It  was  just  “that  which  goes  down” — 
the  Descender — Yarden! 

History  and  religion  and  travel  have  touched  this 
strange  river  chiefly  at  three  points :  its  source,  its 

[122] 


THE  RIVER  THAT  GOES  DOWN 


widening  out  into  the  Sea  of  Gali¬ 
lee,  and  its  mouth  at  the  Dead  Sea. 

The  Jordan  is  the  gift  of  Mount 
Hermon,  whose  highest  peak,  ris¬ 
ing  9,680  feet  above  the  Mediter¬ 
ranean,  is  the  very  top  of  Pales¬ 
tine.  So  the  Syrians  call  it  Jebel 
esh-Sheikh,  the  “Sheikh  Mountain.” 
On  its  southern  and  western  slopes 
are  three  unfailing  springs  whose 
waters  unite  to  form  the  sacred 
river. 

Streams  in  Palestine  are  uncer¬ 
tain  things.  Most  of  them  are  fu¬ 
rious  torrents  during  the  rainy  sea¬ 
son,  and  simply  do  not  exist  during 
all  the  rest  of  the  year.  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  ever  seen  a  drop 
of  water  in  “cool  Siloam’s  shady 
rill,”  and  I  have  galloped  over  “Ki- 
shon’s  flood”  without  noticing  it. 
Most  maps  of  the  Holy  Land  give 
a  wrong  impression  of  the  water¬ 
courses  of  the  country.  The  nu¬ 
merous  wavy  lines  (broken  lines  on 
the  few  correct  maps),  which  one 
naturally  supposes  to  be  rivers, 
are  most  of  them  merely  valleys 
down  which  the  water  drains  after 


[123] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


a  storm,  but  which  otherwise  are  as  dry  as  a,  bone. 
One  small  river  and  a  half-dozen  creeks  are  about  all 
the  summer  traveler  sees  between  Dan  and  Beer- 
sheba. 

Because  of  this  indefiniteness  of  Palestinian 
streams,  the  head  of  the  Jordan  is  variously  located 
at  places  as  much  as  thirty  miles  apart.  Indeed,  if 
we  include  its  variable  tributaries,  the  actual  length 
does  vary  almost  as  much  as  this.  But  its  farthest 
perennial  source  is  at  the  fountain  by  the  village  of 
Hasbeya,  thirty-five  miles  north  of  the  Sea  of 
Galilee. 

A  second  and  much  larger  source  is  eight  miles 
below  Hasbeya,  at  the  mound  of  Tell  el-Kadi ,  which 
is  Arabic  for  “Hill  of  the  Judge.”  Dan  in  Hebrew 
also  meant  “Judge,”  and  this  is  almost  certainly  the 
location  of  the  famous  city  which  was  so  often  named 
as  the  extreme  northernmost  settlement  in  Israel. 
The  mound  may  have  been  the  crater  of  an  extinct 
volcano ;  for  evidences  of  volcanic  action  are  numer¬ 
ous  in  all  this  district  around  Plermon,  and  earth¬ 
quakes  are  still  frequent. 

The  tell  is  now  covered  with  black  boulders,  among 
which  grow  thorn  bushes  and  small  trees,  and  in  the 
springtime  the  banks  of  the  stream  are  gorgeous 
with  flowers  and  blossoming  shrubs ;  so  that  the  scene 
is  one  of  great  natural  beauty,  as  well  as  religious 
and  historic  interest.  The  river  flows  out  from  the 
side  of  the  mound  and  also  wells  up  among  the  bushes 


[124] 


THE  RIVER  THAT  GOES  DOWN 


at  the  center  of  the  old  crater.  The  water  is  abso¬ 
lutely  clear,  and  is  so  great  in  volume  that  this  must 
be  numbered  among  the  largest  springs  in  the  world. 

The  most  famous  and  beautiful  source  of  the  Jor¬ 
dan,  however,  and  the  one  which  the  Jews  consid¬ 
ered  the  beginning  of  their  river,  is  that  at  Banias, 
where  the  stream  bursts  forth  from  a  cavern  in  the 
mountainside  and  flows  through  a  luxuriant  jungle 
of  ferns  and  water-plants  and  thick-growing  shrubs, 
bordered  by  pleasant  groves  of  oak  trees  and  domi¬ 
nated  by  the  majestic  mountain  slopes  which  rise  one 
behind  the  other,  up  to  the  summit  of  Hermon. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  from  time  immemorial  this 
has  been  a  sanctuary  of  nature-worship.  Long  before 
the  Hebrews  entered  Palestine,  the  aboriginal  inhab¬ 
itants  worshipped  here  the  gods  of  the  forest  and  the 
subterranean  waters,  which  was  doubtless  why  Jero¬ 
boam  later  chose  this  as  one  of  the  spots  to  set  up  a 
golden  calf.  When  the  Greeks  came,  they  made  a 
grove  of  Daphne  by  the  other  source  near  Dan ;  and 
here,  at  the  most  impressive  fountain  of  the  Jordan, 
they  found  an  ideal  dwelling-place  for  their  own 
forest-god ;  so  they  dedicated  the  cavern  of  the 
spring  to  Pan  and  called  the  region  about  it  Paneas , 
whence  (as  the  Syrian  cannot  pronounce  the  letter 
p)  comes  the  modern  name  of  Banias.  Here  Herod 
the  Great  built  “a  most  beautiful  temple  of  the  whit¬ 
est  stone.”  Philip  the  Tetrarch  beautified  the  city 
by  the  spring,  and  renamed  it  after  the  emperor, 


[125] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


Caesarea — Caesarea  Philippi,  to  distinguish  it  from 
the  other  Caesarea  on  the  coast — and  under  this 
name  the  locality  is  associated  with  the  solemn  scene 
in  the  Gospel  history,  when  Peter  was  promised  the 
keys  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  (Matt.  16:13ff). 
After  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  Titus  celebrated 
his  victory  by  great  gladiatorial  combats  at  Cae¬ 
sarea,  during  which  unfortunate  Jewish  captives 
were  slain  by  wild  beasts.  To-day  there  stands  on 
the  cliff  above  the  spring  a  small  shrine  of  the  patron 
saint  of  England  and  popular  Moslem  hero,  St. 
George. 

Fifteen  hundred  feet  above  the  sacred  fountain,  on 
a  narrow  ridge  bordered  by  dizzy  precipices,  rises 
the  black  bulk  of  a  huge  castle,  built  by  the  Cru¬ 
saders  in  the  year  1129,  and  the  scene  of  some  of 
the  most  sanguinary  conflicts  in  all  the  tragic  his¬ 
tory  of  the  Latin  Kingdom  of  Jerusalem,  until 
in  1165  the  stronghold  was  captured  by  the  great 
Saracen  leader,  Nureddin. 

It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  place  which  exhibits 
a  more  striking  combination  of  historic  interest,  fas¬ 
cinating  mythology,  solemn  religious  associations 
and  magnificence  of  natural  surroundings  than  the 
mountain  and  castle  and  cavern  and  grove  by  the 
fountain  of  Banias. 

Five  miles  to  the  south  the  three  streams  unite, 
and  the  full-grown  river  flows  across  the  fertile  plain 
of  the  Huleh,  much  of  which,  however,  is  undrained 


[126] 


The  source  of  the  Jordan  at  Tell  el-Kudi ,  ancient  Dan 


Copyright  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  N.  \  . 

The  marshes  of  the  Huleh,  with  Mount  Hermon  in  the  background 


THE  RIVER  THAT  GOES  DOWN 


swamp  and  jungle,  tenanted  only  by  wild  beasts, 
poisonous  with  malaria,  and  subject  to  raids  by 
the  Bedouins  from  the  east.  The  lower  end  of  the 
Huleh  is  an  impenetrable  morass,  choked  with  papy¬ 
rus  plants,  through  which  the  Jordan  meanders  by 
innumerable  channels,  until  it  widens  out  into  its 
first  lake,  which  is  a  small,  roundish  body  of  water, 
about  three  miles  across.  This  is  the  “Waters  of 
Merom,”  where  Joshua  defeated  the  kings  of  the 
north  country.  They  call  it  now  the  Bciheiret  el- 
Hidehy  or  “Lakelet  of  the  Huleh.” 

When  it  leaves  this  little  lake,  the  Jordan  “goes 
down”  indeed !  It  tumbles  over  one  cascade  after 
another,  in  an  almost  continuous  succession  of  dizzy 
whirlpools  and  impassable  rapids,  and  in  less  than 
ten  miles  it  has  fallen  689  feet.  It  is  not  strange 
that  the  muddy  stream  of  this  furious  little  river 
can  be  traced  far  into  the  Sea  of  Galilee ;  so  that  tra¬ 
dition  says  that  the  Jordan  passes  straight  along 
and  out  again,  without  mingling  its  waters  with 
those  of  the  lake.  In  a  straight  line  we  are  only 
thirty-five  miles  from  the  source  at  Hasbeya,  yet  the 
river  has  already  “gone  down”  almost  2,400  feet,  or  a 
thousand  feet  more  than  the  entire  fall  of  the 
Mississippi. 

Outside  of  the  Jordan  Valley,  there  is  no  spot  on 
earth  so  low  as  the  shores  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 
We  are  down  at  the  bottom  of  a  great  pit.  The 
waves  of  the  ocean  are  rolling  nearly  seven  hundred 

[127] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


feet  above.  Yet  the  panorama  spread  before  us  is 
of  a  mountain  lake  of  wondrous  beauty,  to  which 
we  shall  return  again. 

The  Jordan  is  already  more  than  twice  as  low  as 
any  other  river;  but  upon  leaving  the  Sea  of  Galilee, 
once  more  it  “goes  down” — down  through  a  strange 
gorge,  of  which  one  traveler  says,  “There  may  be 
something  on  the  surface  of  some  other  planet  to 
match  the  Jordan  Valley:  there  is  nothing  on  this. 
On  the  earth  there  is  nothing  else  like  this  deep,  this 
colossal  ditch.”  Between  the  steep  slopes  of  the 
mountains  on  the  west  and  the  wall-like  line  of  pre¬ 
cipitous  mountains  on  the  east,  is  el-Ghor ,  “the 
„  Depression,”  a  vast  trench,  running  exactly  north 
and  south,  three  to  four  thousand  feet  deep  and 
usually  eight  or  ten  miles  across.  In  pre-historic 
times  this  was  one  long  inland  sea,  extending  from 
the  Waters  of  Merom  beyond  the  lower  end  of  the 
Dead  Sea.  Through  the  center  of  this  old  sea-bed, 
the  annual  floods  of  the  river  have  cut  within  the  great 
trench  of  el-Ghor  another,  narrower  ditch,  which 
is  sometimes  two  hundred  feet  deeper.  Down  at  the 
bottom  of  these  gigantic  steps,  flows  the  Jordan, 
along  a  groove  within  a  ditch  within  a  trench.  You 
cannot  see  the  river  itself  from  any  distance ;  only 
its  bordering  jungle*  of  small  trees  and  under¬ 
brush,  which  twists  and  turns  and  writhes  like  a  dark 
green  serpent  along  the  bare,  brown  floor  of  the 
valley. 


[128] 


THE  RIVER  THAT  GOES  DOWN 


The  Jordan  might  also  be  appropriately  named 
the  “Winder” ;  for  its  course  between  the  Sea  of 
Galilee  and  the  Dead  Sea  is  so  circuitous  that  the 
sixty-five  miles  actual  distance  is  trebled  by  the 
windings  of  the  river,  which  sometimes  twists  east, 
west,  south  and  even  north,  in  the  course  of  a  few 
hundred  yards.  Yet  with  all  its  turnings,  the  Jor¬ 
dan  -hardly  ever  gets  a  mile  away  from  a  straight 
north  and  south  line  drawn  along  the  center  of  the 
Ghor. 

No  craft  has  ever  sailed  down  this  low,  mysterious 
stream,  except  the  boats  of  two  or  three  intrepid 
explorers.  Its  swiftly  flowing  waters  are  thick  with 
mud,  and  are  covered  with  leaves  and  twigs  and  all 
kinds  of  debris.  Its  banks  are  a  paradise  of  thick¬ 
growing  trees  and  gorgeous  flowers,  and  are  musical 
with  the  songs  of  birds.  The  water  swarms  with 
fish.  Wild  beasts  lurk  in  the  thickets.  Now  and  then 
the  river  divides  into  many  branches,  between  which 
lie  fairy-like  islands ;  but  it  would  mean  death  to 
dwell  beneath  their  miasmatic  foliage.  From  this 
side  and  from  that,  charming  rivulets  pour  their 
spring  floods  into  the  already  swollen  river — rivulets 
whose  own  sources  lie  far  below  the  level  of  the 
ocean. 

So,  on  the  river  rushes,  down  and  down  and  ever 
down,  until  at  last,  1,292  feet  below  the  surface  of 
the  Mediterranean,  it  discharges  its  now  polluted 
stream  into  the  clear,  blue  depths  of  the  Dead  Sea. 


9 


[129] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


Near  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan  we  found  a  man’s 
garments  laid  in  a  neat  pile  by  the  bank.  “Where 
has  the  owner  gone?”  we  asked  our  Bedouin  com¬ 
panion.  “Allah  knows !”  he  answered.  “Probably 
he  was  murdered  by  the  robbers.”  The  little  heap  of 
clothing  seemed  a  fitting  symbol  of  the  deathly  deso¬ 
lation  of  the  place. 

The  river  which  goes  down ! — from  the  splendid 
groves  of  Hermon  to  the  slime  and  dreary  barren¬ 
ness  of  the  poisonous  Sea  of  Death,  and  all  the  way 
through  the  most  extraordinary  cleft  on  our  earth. 
On  exceptionally  clear  days  it  is  possible  to  stand 
by  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan  and  look  straight  up  the 
valley  to  the  far-off,  faint  outline  of  Mount  Hermon, 
from  whose  fertile  shoulders  the  river  sprang. 

No  wonder  that  to  the  Hebrews  it  was  simply  a 
barrier.  It  was  Christians,  not  Jews,  who  first  saw 
beauty  and  poetry  in  the  Jordan.  Those  who  dwelt 
near  it  seldom  mention  it  in  their  literature  except 
as  a  kind  of  great  dividing  line — “this  side  Jordan,” 
or  “beyond  Jordan.”  That  is  all! 

As  we  ride  away  from  it,  the  deep  rift  in  the 
mountains  becomes  more  evident.  You  are  never 
long  out  of  sight  of  it,  as  you  travel  through  the 
hill  country  of  central  Palestine.  Always  it  is  there ; 
that  straight,  deep  trench  at  the  east  of  the  Holy 
Land;  the  strangest  of  all  valleys.  Surely  it  was 
no  mere  geological  cataclysm  which  dug  this  great 
moat;  but  a  providential  wisdom  which  shut  in  the 


[130] 


Copyright  by  Stereo-Travel  Co. 

Looking  into  the  level  plain  of  the  Ghor  near  Jericho,  where  the 

Jordan  Valley  is  the  widest 


The  Jordan  River  near  the  Pilgrims’  Bathing  Place 


THE  RIVER  THAT  GOES  DOWN 


Hebrews  to  their  own  tiny  land  among  the  hilltops, 
so  that  there,  in  enforced  separateness  from  the 
heathen  empires  round  about  them,  they  might 
develop  their  unique  insight  into  spiritual  truth. 


1 


[131] 


XIII 


The  sea  of  Death 

Unpins  awful  hollow,  this  bit  of  the  infernal 
regions  come  up  to  the  surface,  this  hell 
with  the  sun  shining  into  it” — so  one  trav¬ 
eler  characterizes  the  basin  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

I  am  glad  that  my  first  visit  was  in  mid¬ 
summer,  when  this  hottest,  most  unhealthful  region 
of  the  inhabited  world  was  at  its  superlative,  inimi¬ 
table  worst.  Indeed,  it  gives  a  wrong  impression  to 
speak  of  the  district  as  “inhabited” ;  for,  except  dur¬ 
ing  the  harvest  season,  when  the  villagers  from  the 
neighboring  hills  come  down  to  reap  their  grain,  the 
Jordan  Valley  north  of  the  Dead  Sea  is  so  still  and 
lonely  that  the  sound  of  a  human  foot-fall  makes 
your  heart  jump  with  mingled  curiosity  and 
apprehension. 

The  Jericho  of  Old  Testament  days  is  a  ruin;  the 
Roman  Jericho  is  a  ruin ;  the  third  and  modern  town 
is  a  mass  of  hot,  filthy  hovels  on  the  edge  of  the 
valley,  whose  two  or  three  hundred  inhabitants  are 
sickly  and  listless  and  degenerate.  The  babies  have 
emaciated  limbs  and  swollen  bodies,  like  the  children 
of  a  famine  district.  The  grown  people  are  burnt 

[132] 


THE  SEA  OF  DEATH 


almost  as  black  as  negroes  by  the  terrible  Ghor  sun, 
and  are  of  a  mongrel  Arab  blood,  despised  by  the 
true  Bedouins,  and  notorious  for  their  laziness  and 
dishonesty  and  the  licentiousness  of  their  women. 
The  last  trait  is  very  rare  among  pure  Arabs.  We 
are  reminded  that  the  three  inhabitants  of  Jericho 
mentioned  by  name  in  the  Bible  were  a  harlot,  a 
beggar,  and  a  dishonest  tax-gatherer. 

Herod  the  Great  laid  a  further  curse  upon  Jericho 
(the  Roman  city,  of  course)  by  choosing  it  for  one 
of  his  favorite  residences.  He  built  a  castle  here 
and  an  amphitheatre  and  several  palaces,  and  here 
he  perished  of  an  indescribably  loathsome  disease. 
Five  days  earlier,  he  had  raised  his  head  from  his 
sick-bed  to  order  the  execution  of  his  own  son.  As 
the  last  important  act  of  his  infamous  career,  the 
dying  madman  ordered  a  thousand  of  the  chief  men 
of  the  Jewish  people  to  be  shut  up  in  the  amphi¬ 
theatre,  and  gave  orders  (which,  however,  were  mer¬ 
cifully  disregarded)  that  immediately  upon  his  de¬ 
cease,  all  these  should  be  massacred,  in  order  that, 
as  he  said,  even  the  nation  which  hated  him  should 
have  cause  to  lament  upon  the  day  of  his  death. 
Then,  selfish  and  murderous  to  the  last,  the  foul 
soul  of  the  tyrant  left  Jericho  for  its  own  place. 

After  a  sleepless  night — for  a  burning  sirocco  was 
blowing  and  the  temperature  of  our  bedroom  must 
have  been  at  least  100  degrees — we  breakfasted  at 
half-past  three  in  the  morning,  and  shortly  after- 


[133] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


wards  drove  off  to  the  ford  of  the  Jordan,  six 
miles  to  the  east  of  Jericho.  Even  in  the  grey  light 
of  the  early  dawn,  it  was  an  insufferably  hot  and 
uninteresting  journey,  excepting  when  we  bumped 
over  the  edge  of  the  inner  trench  into  the  old  bed  of 
the  river,  where  its  ancient  meanderings  through  the 
soft  marl  had  sculptured  strangely  artificial-looking 
castles  and  walls  and  monuments.  Then  the  carriage 
nearly  upset  as  it  slid  down  the  bank  of  still  another 
channel,  which  was  cut  in  more  recent  times,  and  is 
still  sometimes  •  filled  by  the  spring  floods.  Last  of 
all  we  came  to  a  dense  thicket,  which  completely  hid 
the  river  from  view  until  we  stood  on  its  muddy 
banks. 

Opposite  Jericho  the  Jordan  is  about  a  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  across ;  and  in  spite  of  the  muddiness 
of  the  water,  there  are  many  charming  views  up  the 
winding  stream,  between  the  thick,  overhanging 
foliage  which  lines  it  on  either  side. 

There  are  numerous  fords  along  the  lower  course 
of  the  river.  One  of  these  is  regarded  as  the  place 
of  Christ’s  baptism,  and  consequently  at  Easter¬ 
time  it  is  thronged  with  pilgrims  who  come  dowTn 
from  Jerusalem  to  bathe  in  the  sacred  river.  Great 
personages  frequently  come  here  from  distant  coun¬ 
tries,  attended  by  their  chaplains,  to  be  baptized  in 
the  Jordan.  Bottles  of  the  water  are  carried  away 
as  relics,  or  to  be  used  for  important  ceremonies  in 
the  churches  of  Europe.  A  syndicate  was  recently 


[134] 


THE  SEA  OF  DEATH 


formed  with  the  object  of  exporting  hogsheads  of 
the  water  to  America,  where  presumably  it  was  to  be 
disposed  of  at  a  large  price  for  the  christening  of  the 
children  of  wealthy  parents ;  but,  so  far  as  I  know, 
the  venture  has  not  been  a  success. 

Between  the  fords,  the  river  is  often  quite  deep. 
In  the  driest  month  of  the  year,  I  swam  down  twelve 
or  fifteen  feet  under  water  without  reaching  bottom : 
I  was  afraid  to  go  deeper,  on  account  of  the  danger 
of  being  entangled  in  the  roots  and  water-plants. 
Even  so  far  from  the  source  and  where  the  fall  of 
the  river  is  least,  the  current  is  very  powerful.  We 
had  been  bathing  in  the  Mediterranean  eight  months 
in  the  year  and  felt  quite  at  home  in  deep  water; 
but  the  strongest  swimmer  in  our  party  said  that 
he  would  rather  not  try  to  cross  this  narrow  river. 
Those  of  us  who  did  try  it  found  the  effort  quite 
exhausting,  and  one  man  had  to  rest  fifteen  minutes 
on  “the  other  side  of  Jordan”  before  he  felt  equal  to 
the  swim  back. 

Six  or  seven  miles  below  this  ford,  the  river  empties 
into  the  Dead  Sea.  We  reached  its  shore  just  at 
sunrise — a  glorious  sunrise  of  purple  and  gold,  which 
nevertheless,  in  this  great  oven  of  a  valley,  reminded 
us  of  nothing  so  much  as  the  flames  playing  above 
the  coals  of  a  furnace. 

The  people  who  lived  near  it  never  called  this  the 
“Dead  Sea.”  To  the  Hebrews  it  was  the  “Salt  Sea,” 
or  the  “Eastern  Sea.”  In  Roman  times  it  was 


[135] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


known  as  the  “Asphalt  Lake,”  from  the  deposits  of 
bitumen  which  are  found  by  its  shores.  The  Arabs 
call  it  Bahr  Lilt ,  “the  Sea  of  Lot” ;  for  Mohammed 
introduced  into  the  Koran  the  story  of  Lot  and 
Sodom. 


A  cross-section  of  Southern  Palestine.  The  horizontal  dis¬ 
tances  are  in  miles ;  vertical,  in  feet 


The  northern  two-thirds  of  the  sea  is  very  deep, 
the  mean  depth  of  this  portion  being  over  1,000  feet 
and  the  greatest,  1,310  feet;  but  below  the  low,  white 
peninsula  of  the  Lisdn ,  or  “Tongue,”  the  water  grows 
suddenly  very  shallow  and  is  nowhere  more  than 
about  fourteen  feet  deep.  Because  of  this  fact,  and 
also  because  of  the  great  number  of  salt  pinnacles 
near  the  southern  bay,  many  scholars  think  that  the 
ancient  “Cities  of  the  Plain”  were  in  what  is  now 
this  shallow  portion  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  that  a 
subsidence  of  land  accompanying  the  other  phe¬ 
nomena  at  the  time  of  the  destruction  of  Sodom  and 


[136] 


Inhabitants  of  modem  Jericho 


THE  SEA  OF  DEATH 


Gomorrah  caused  the  water  of  the  sea  to  extend 
southwards  over  the  ruins  of  the  fallen  cities. 

The  rapid  current  of  the  Jordan  carries  down 
6,500,000  tons  of  water  each  day,  all  of  which  must 
be  taken  up  by  evaporation,  as  the  Dead  Sea  has  no 
outlet,  and  yet  its  level  remains  approximately  the 
same.  Consequently  the  water  is  impregnated  to  an 
unusual  extent  with  mineral  substances.  It  has  26  per 
cent,  of  solid  matter  in  solution,  as  compared  with 
the  ocean’s  4  to  6  per  cent.  Sulphur  and  petroleum 
springs  are  found  near  its  shores,  and  presumably 
also  in  the  sea  bottom.  Besides  chloride  of  sodium 
(table  salt),  the  water  contains  chlorides  of  calcium 
and  magnesium.  The  former  makes  the  water  feel 
smooth  and  oily ;  the  latter  gives  to  it  a  nauseating 
and  bitter  taste.  Indeed,  the  bitter,  oily  taste  is  more 
noticeable  than  the  saltness. 

Of  course  no  one  can  drink  this  terrible  fluid. 
Even  swimming  in  it  irritates  the  skin,  and  if  it 
touches  the  eyes  or  nostrils  or  a  half-healed  scratch, 
it  causes  the  most  exquisite  pain.  Bathing  in  the 
Dead  Sea  is  a  memorable  experience,  however,  be¬ 
cause  the  specific  gravity  of  the  water  is  so  great 
that  it  is  simply  impossible  for  a  person  to  sink.  You 
can  walk  along  in  the  water  with  your  head  and 
shoulders  above  the  surface,  or  lie  back,  as  if  in  a 
hammock,  and  read  or  smoke  with  perfect  ease.  I 
saw  a  young  Russian,  who  could  not  swim  a  stroke, 
floundering  around  away  out  from  shore,  where  the 


[137] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


sea  must  have  been  hundreds  of  feet  deep,  for  all  the 
world  like  a  child  in  a  hay-mow. 

The  Dead  Sea  is  forty-seven  miles  long  and  nine 
or  ten  miles  wide;  that  is,  it  is  just  about  the  size 
of  Lake  Geneva ;  but  where  the  Swiss  lake  is  over¬ 
looked  by  green  pastures  and  shady  groves  and 
bordered  by  prosperous  cities,  the  great  lake  of  Pales¬ 
tine  is  surrounded  by  dry,  salty  desolation.  Never¬ 
theless  the  Dea  Sea  is  beautiful.  A  French  explorer 
calls  it  “the  most  imposing  and  beautiful  lake 
which  exists  on  the  earth.”  From  a  distance  its 
waters  are  the  deepest,  most  incredible  blue;  nearby 
they  are  of  a  wonderful  transparency,  so  that  at  a 
depth  of  twenty  or  thirty  feet  the  stones  at  the 
bottom  are  distinctly  seen.  Except  at  the  south¬ 
ern  end,  its  shores  are  covered  with  dazzling  white 
pebbles  and  sand ;  on  either  side  high  mountains 
rise  above  it;  and  overhead  is  the  glorious  Judean 
sky. 

But  its  beauty  is  the  beauty  of  death.  No  vege¬ 
table  life  is  found  along  its  shores,  except  heaps  of 
drift-wood  carried  down  by  the  river,  which  are 
stripped  and  bleached  like  bones  and  incrusted  with 
a  layer  of  salt.  No  flocks  graze  beside  it,  no  wild 
beasts  come  hither  to  drink,  no  fish  swim  in  its 
depths — though,  indeed,  I  have  seen  thousands  of 
Jordan  fish  floating  near  the  surface  of  the  sea  whose 
poisonous  waters  had  killed  them.  No  life  of  any 
kind  is  found  in  or  near  it,  except  perhaps  a  few 

'  [138] 


THE  SEA  OF  DEATH 


deadly  microbes.  The  Arabs  say  that  even  the  birds 
will  not  fly  over  it. 

It  is  a  nightmare  lake,  full  of  marvels ;  but  they 
are  all  marvels  of  a  dead,  hot,  thirsty  desolation. 
Cakes  of  hard  black  asphalt  rise  up  from  its  depths 
when  loosened  by  storms  or  earthquakes.  At 
the  southern  end  are  almost  impassable  bogs — the 
“slime  pits”  where  the  armies  of  Sodom  and  Gomor¬ 
rah  were  overwhelmed  (Genesis  14:10).  Here  too 
is  a  mountain  of  pure  rock-salt,  six  hundred  feet  high 
and  seven  miles  long ;  and  a  cliff  of  solid  flint  a  thou¬ 
sand  feet  high.  And  here  grow  the  “Apples  of 
Sodom” ;  beautiful  orange-like  fruits  which,  when 
dead  ripe,  crumble  away  in  the  hand  like  ashes. 

On  the  western  side  of  the  Dead  Sea  are  an  oasis 
and  a  ruined  castle,  both  of  which  are  worth  visit¬ 
ing,  though  both  are  touched  with  the  tragedy  which 
seems  to  grip  everything  that  even  overlooks  this 
valley  of  death. 

The  oasis  is  at  Engedi,  “the  Spring  of  the  Kid,” 
half-way  down  the  lake.  Here  David  hid  from  Saul 
“upon  the  rocks  of  the  wild  goats”  (I  Samuel  24:1); 
and  here,  many  years  later,  Jehoshaphat  slaughtered 
the  invading  army  from  beyond  Jordan  (II  Samuel 
20).  Between  the  Salt  Sea  and  the  precipitous  cliffs 
of  the  Judean  Wilderness  is  a  fertile  wedge  of  land, 
watered  by  a  generous  stream,  which  bursts  from  a 
warm  spring  in  the  rocks  and  rushes  down  in  noisy 
cascades  to  the  sea  four  hundred  feet  below.  In 


[139] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


spite  of  the  unusual  fertility,  this  is  one  of  the  wild¬ 
est,  loneliest  spots  in  all  Palestine,  tenanted  chiefly 
by  the  wild  goats  which  gave  to  the  locality  its 
ancient  name. 

A  little  way  south  of  Engedi  there  projects  into 
the  sea  an  almost  inaccessible  promontory  two  thou¬ 
sand  feet  high,  upon  whose  summit  are  the  ruins  of 
the  Castle  of  Masada,  whose  walls  rise  from  the 
very  brink  of  the  precipice.  It  was  here,  in  these 
lonely,  desolate  surroundings,  that  there  occurred 
the  final  tragic  act  in  the  drama  of  Jewish  national 
history.  After  Jerusalem  had  been  captured  by 
Titus  in  70  A.  D.,  the  last  survivors  of  the  garrison 
fled  with  their  women  and  children  to  this  remote 
fortress,  which  they  stubbornly  defended  against  the 
Roman  besiegers.  But  at  last  a  breach  was  made 
in  the  outer  fortifications,  and  the  Jews  were  shut  up 
within  a  hastily  constructed  inner  rampart  of  wood 
and  earth.  Then  the  dauntless  commander  Eleazar 
prevailed  upon  his  unfortunate  compatriots  that, 
rather  than  yield  to  the  Romans,  they  should  die  by 
their  own  hands. *  So  each  man  killed  his  own  wife 
and  children.  “Nor  was  there  at  length  any  one  of 
these  men  found  that  scrupled  to  act  his  part  in  this 
terrible  execution,  but  every  one  of  them  dispatched 
his  dearest  relations.  .  .  They  then  chose  ten 

men  by  lot  out  of  them,  to  slay  all  the  rest  , 


*  Josephus,  Wars  of  the  Jews,  Book  vii,  chapters  8-9. 

[140] 


The  northern  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea 


The  Wilderness  of  Judea 


THE  SEA  OF  DEATH 


and  when  these  ten  had,  without  fear,  slain  them  all, 
they  made  the  same  rule  for  casting  lots  for  them¬ 
selves,  that  he  whose  lot  it  was  should  first  kill  the 
other  nine,  and  after  all,  should  kill  himself.”  Of 
the  entire  garrison  of  Masada  there  survived  only 
two  women  and  five  children,  who  had  hidden  in  a 
cave  under  the  castle. 

So  when  next  morning  the  Roman  army  ascended 
the  steep  cliff  for  the  final  assault  upon  the  fortress, 
they  found  only  smouldering  ruins  and  the  bodies 
of  the  nine  hundred  and  sixty  heroes  who  had  made 
the  last  brave,  hopeless  stand  for  Jewish  independ¬ 
ence  on  the  rocky  promontory  which  looks  out  upon 
the  Sea  of  Death, 


[141] 


XIV 


The  Backbone  of  Palestine 

ALTHOUGH  the  long  contemplated  road  to 
Nazareth  is  at  last  completed,  there  is  still 
only  one  really  satisfactory  way  to  travel  up- 
country  from  Jerusalem.  That  is,  of  course,  on  horse¬ 
back.  It  is  hard  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  Palestine 
from  the  seat  of  a  carriage.  On  the  other  hand, 
pedestrianism  is  not  advisable  for  the  Western  visitor ; 
for  he  will  not  quickly  recuperate  from  the  fatigue  of 
over-exertion  under  the  burning  sun ;  so  the  pleasure 
of  the  trip  will  be  spoiled  and,  in  his  weakened  condi¬ 
tion,  he  may  come  down  with  a  fever. 

Besides  two  quite  passable  hotels  on  the  European 
plan,  there  are  four  kinds  of  accommodations  for  the 
three  nights  which  the  rider  usually  spends  between 
Jerusalem  and  Nazareth.  You  can  sleep  in  your  own 
tent,  a  native  khan,  a  monastery,  or  the  home  of  a 
missionary.  The  first  is  the  most  expensive,  and 
most  out  of  touch  with  the  real  life  of  the  country. 
The  last  is  an  imposition  upon  busy  and  underpaid 
people,  of  which  you  should  be  guilty  only  under 
very  exceptional  circumstances,  unless,  indeed,  you 
are  willing  to  lodge  strangers  over-night  in  your  own 
home  in  America. 


[142] 


THE  BACKBONE  OF  PALESTINE 


I  have  stayed  in  a  good  many  S}rrian  khans — when 
I  could  not  help  it.  The  first  thing  you  do  after 
arrival  is  to  sit  on  the  edge  of  the  manger  and  smoke, 
while  your  horse  is  being  fed.  The  reason  why  you 
stay  there  in  the  stable  is  because  otherwise  the  oats 
you  have  paid  for  would  be  stolen  from  under  the 
poor  animal’s  nose.  And  it  is  better  to  smoke, 
because  tobacco  smoke  does  not  smell  so  bad  as  some 
other  things.  Then  your  host  conducts  you  to  the 
chamber  of  honor — if  there  is  one.  In  many  of  the 
khans  there  are  no  sleeping-rooms  at  all;  for  the 
muleteers  and  camel-drivers  are  content  to  roll  up 
in  their  blankets  and  spend  the  night  on  the  stable 
floor,  or  perhaps  on  a  large  raised  platform  which 
is  provided  for  that  purpose. 

The  first  time  I  slept  at  the  khan  at  Jenin  (ancient 
Engannim),  on  the  edge  of  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon, 
we  were  given  a  little  upper  room,  like  a  small  house 
built  on  the  flat  roof  of  the  main  building;  doubtless 
the  same  kind  of  a  guest-chamber  which  the  widow  of 
Shunem  built  for  the  prophet  Elisha.  The  furniture 
consisted  of  four  very  rickety  and  very  dirty  beds, 
one  broken-down  chair,  a  little  wooden  bench  with  two 
jugs  of  water  on  it,  a  smoky  lamp,  and  a  piece  of 
dark,  stony  substance  which  was  said  to  be  soap. 
But  by  the  time  we  had  washed  the  soap,  there  was 
not  enough  of  it  left  to  wash  ourselves  with ;  so  our 
evening  ablutions  were  performed  by  cautiously  pour¬ 
ing  our  scanty  supply  of  water  over  each  other’s 

[143] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


hands,  in  the  time-honored  Oriental  manner.  As  our 
muleteer  threw  the  saddle-bags  on  the  floor  he 
turned  to  us  with  a  grin  and  said,  “Fine  room ! 
Cook’s  Hotel !” 

We  gave  him  a  bishlik  (eleven  cents),  and  told 
him  to  go  to  the  bazaar  and  buy  us  some  supper.  He 
came  back  with  a  big  bundle  of  bread  and  cheese 
which  lasted  the  two  of  us  for  three  meals.  Even 
counting  the  price  of  the  coffee  from  the  khan ,  and  of 
a  can  of  sardines  left  over  from  lunch,  our  meal  cost 
us  only  about  four  cents  apiece.  After  supper  we 
sat  out  on  the  flat  roof  for  half  an  hour  in  the  moon¬ 
light.  Any  Syrian  town  looks  beautiful  after  dark. 
Then  we  rubbed  vaseline  on  our  sunburns  and  tumbled 
into  bed — with  our  clothes  on,  for  obvious  reasons — 
and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  all  the  window  panes 
were  broken  and  somebody  had  told  the  mosquitoes 
of  our  arrival,  we  slept  a  solid  ten  hours. 

The  next  time  I  passed  through  Jemn,  we  were 
given  a  tiny  pavilion  in  the  center  of  the  orchard 
back  of  the  khan.  Here  the  surroundings  were  really 
most  romantic.  No  sign  of  human  life  was  visible. 
Only  the  hum  and  buzz  and  chirp  of  a  hundred  thou¬ 
sand  insects  shattered  the  dead  stillness  of  the  night. 
Between  the  deep  shadows  of  the  old  olive  trees,  the 
bright  moonlight  streamed  upon  the  flowers  grow¬ 
ing  beneath  in  wild  profusion.  But  our  garden  pavil¬ 
ion  was  more  of  a  ruin  than  the  chamber  on  the  roof 
of  the  khan.  The  door  was  gone  and  the  shutters  of 

[144] 


THE  BACKBONE  OF  PALESTINE 


the  windows  swung  on  one  hinge ;  so  when  towards 
midnight  we  heard  a  number  of  drunken  muleteers 
carousing  at  the  farther  end  of  the  orchard,  we 
moved  our  four-poster  beds  up  against  the  openings 
of  the  pavilion,  in  such  a  way  that  we  should  be 
quickly  aroused  by  any  intruders.  This  time  we 
were  more  extravagant  and  spent  a  bishlik  apiece  for 
a  very  large  course  dinner,  consisting  of  rice  stew, 
mutton  stew,  bean  stew,  tomato  stew,  and  I  know 
not  how  many  stews  besides.  While  we  were  eating, 
our  lamp  attracted  attention,  and,  with  one  accord, 
all  the  insects  in  the  orchard  stopped  buzzing  and 
came  in  to  welcome  us.  But  poor  food  and  dirty 
beds  and  insect  pests  and  drunken  neighbors  are 
powerless  to  disturb  the  peaceful  slumbers  of  those 
who  have  ridden  all  day  in  the  brisk,  fresh  air  of  the 
uplands  of  Palestine. 

It  is  seldom,  however,  that  the  traveler  need  sleep 
at  native  khans.  Ordinarily  he  can  plan  his  journey 
so  as  to  spend  each  night  at  one  of  the  numerous 
monasteries  which  make  a  business  of  entertaining 
strangers.  These  seldom  have  any  fixed  charge.  I 
usually  pay  a  medjedie  (eighty-five  cents)  for  sup¬ 
per,  bed  and  breakfast  for  myself  and  horse. 

As  a  rule  these  monasteries  are  clean  and  com¬ 
fortable,  and  provide  good  food  as  well  as  satisfac¬ 
tory  lodging.  The  buildings  are  always  forbidding 
stone  structures,  built  so  as  to  stand  a  siege,  if  need 
be.  Around  the  inner  court,  with  its  pebble  walks 


l© 


[145] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


and  central  cistern,  are  cloisters  from  which  open 
the  living  and  sleeping-rooms ;  or,  in  the  case  of  a 
large  monastery,  the  bedrooms  will  open  from  an 
upper  gallery.  The  surroundings  are  quiet  and 
peaceful,  the  beds  have  the  necessary  mosquito-nets, 
the  food  is  good  in  quality  and  often  elaborate  in 
variety.  I  had  an  eight-course  dinner  at  the  Fran¬ 
ciscan  monastery  at  Shechem.  And  if  you  talk 
French  or  Arabic,  the  monks  are  only  too  glad  to  sit 
down  for  an  after-dinner  chat  with  you. 

There  are  three  views  which  repeat  themselves 
again  and  again  as  you  ride  along  the  central  range 
of  Palestine :  the  valley,  the  ravine,  and  the  panorama 
from  the  mountaintop. 

The  first  you  see  with  increasing  frequency  as  you 
pass  from  the  rather  barren  pasture  land  of  Judea 
to  the  richer  farming  country  of  Samaria.  You  ride 
along  a  long,  narrow  meadow,  like  the  bed  of  an 
ancient  lake — which  doubtless  it  was.  On  each  side 
are  the  steep  hills,  whose  rocky  sides  are  only 
sparsely  covered  with  small,  stunted  trees  and 
scrubby  bushes ;  but  the  valley  between  is  one  level, 
apparently  unbroken  mass  of  velvety  green,  dotted 
here  and  there  with  brilliant  clumps  of  wild  flowers. 
No  brooks  wander  through  these  meadows.  Their 
moisture  comes  from  the  winter  rains.  No  farm 
houses  are  seen.  It  is  not  safe  for  the  peasants  to 
dwell  alone;  so  they  live  in  compact  villages  a  little 

[146] 


Copyright  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  N.  Y. 


Shechem  and  Mount  Ebal 


Copyright  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  N.  Y. 

The  Samaritan  high  priest  and  the  famous  roll  of  the  Pentateuch 


THE  BACKBONE  OF  PALESTINE 


way  up  the  hillsides  by  the  springs,  and  come  down 
each  day  to  the  valley  to  work  their  fields,  except 
just  at  the  harvest  time,  when  they  camp  out  in 
little  booths  made  of  leafy  boughs,  lest  their  ripe 
grain  should  be  prematurely  garnered  by  some  mid¬ 
night  robber.  So  there  is  nothing  to  break  the  soft, 
quiet  monotony  of  the  warm  valley  cuddled  there 
between  the  surrounding  hills. 

Suddenly  the  meadow  turns  sharply  and  ends 
in  a  narrow,  winding  ravine,  whose  stony  bottom, 
cluttered  with  tremendous  boulders,  shows  the  marks 
of  the  torrential  flow  of  the  rainy  season.  There 
may  be  an  insecure  bridle-path  along  one  side  of  the 
bed  of  the  wadi,  or  you  may  have  to  ride  up  the  dry 
river-bed  itself.  Your  horse  stumbles  over  the 
rounded  stones  at  almost  every  step ;  but  you  need 
not  worry;  he  is  used  to  these  rough  roads,  and  will 
not  fall.  On  the  right  hand  and  the  left  the  almost 
precipitous  hillside  is  untidily  covered  with  tough, 
thorny  bushes,  which  often  scratch  you  as  you  ride 
between  them  on  the  narrow  trail.  There  is  no  wind 
down  here  between  the  hills,  and  the  stones  under¬ 
foot  are  almost  as  hot  as  the  sun  overhead.  You 
can  never  make  out  the  path  for  more  than  a  few 
rods  ahead ;  then  it  turns  around  some  rocky 
shoulder,  or  is  lost  in  a  tangle  of  underbrush.  Some¬ 
times  the  road  is  as  steep  as  a  stairway  and,  unless 
you  are  a  seasoned  traveler,  you  tire  yourself  out 
trying  to  help  the  horse  climb  over  the  huge  blocks  of 

[147] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


fallen  limestone.  You  hope  that  each  new  turn  in 
the  twisting  ravine  will  be  the  last;  but  you  are  so 
often  disappointed  that  at  last  you  come  to  feel  as 
if  all  Palestine  were  one  narrow,  steep,  hot,  endless 
cleft  in  the  rocks. 

Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  you  are  out  on  the  top  of 
the  world.  You  take  off  your  helmet  to  let  the  cool 
breeze  blow  through  your  matted  hair,  and  gulp  in 
great  breaths  of  the  delicious  mountain  air.  The 
ravine  up  which  you  have  been  traveling  is  already 
hidden  in  the  bushes.  You  would  have  hard  work 
to  find  it  again.  Overhead  is  an  illimitable  expanse 
of  the  clearest,  cleanest  air,  with  feathery  clouds 
gently  floating  eastward  from  the  sea  through  the 
dark,  rich  blue  of  the  sky.  Bright-colored  flowers 
grow  among  the  rocks  of  the  hilltop,  and  scrub  oaks 
and  cactus  bushes.  Farther  down,  the  slopes  are 
terraced  in  innumerable  narrow  platforms,  each  of 
which  bears  one  or  two  long,  curving  rows  of  orchard 
trees.  All  about  you  are  rounded  mountain  summits, 
with  soft,  level  grain  fields  between  them.  On  spurs 
of  the  hills  which  project  into  the  valleys  are  clusters 
of  tiny,  gray-white  houses.  Especially  at  the  east 
there  are  mountains  and  mountains  and  more  moun¬ 
tains.  Then  suddenly  they  stop,  and  you  fairly 
feel  the  unseen  drop  where  Palestine  falls  down 
into  the  Jordan  Valley,  beyond  which  is  the  bluish 
wall  of  the  plateau  of  Gilead.  At  the  west  there  is 
one  place  where  a  break  between  the  hills  shows  a  tiny 

[148] 


THE  BACKBONE  OF  PALESTINE 


triangle  of  the  Mediterranean,  which  shines  dark 
blue  or  gray  or  golden,  according  to  the  height  of 
the  sun.  And  away  off  to  the  north  is  the  faint  out¬ 
line  of  Mount  Hermon. 

The  center  of  Palestine  geographically,  and  in 
many  respects  the  center  historically  and  religiously, 
is  the  city  of  Shechem,  which  lies  in  the  transverse 
valley  which  cuts  across  the  highlands  of  Samaria 
from  east  to  west  between  Mount  Gerizim  and  Mount 
Ebal.  The  city  is  built  upon  a  kind  of  ridge  or 
“shoulder,”  which  stretches  across  the  narrow  valley 
from  mountain  to  mountain ;  hence  its  ancient  name 
of  Shechem  or  “the  Shoulder.”  It  has  been  known 
for  the  last  nineteen  centuries  as  Nablus  ( i.e ., 
Neapolis)  or  “New-town.” 

The  “Vale  of  Shechem”  is  exceedingly  fertile. 
Where  Jerusalem  has  no  natural  springs  at  all, 
Nablus  boasts  of  twenty-two  never-failing  fountains. 
There  is  an  elaborate  system  of  irrigation ;  but  at 
certain  seasons  of  the  year  there  is  such  an  over¬ 
supply  of  water  that  it  is  actually  let  run  to  waste 
through  the  city  streets,  which  are  sometimes  dan¬ 
gerous  for  horses,  on  account  of  the  floods  rushing 
over  the  slippery  stones.  In  all  my  travels  through 
Syria  and  Palestine  I  remember  only  three  cities 
where  there  was  a  visible  abundance  of  water:  Da¬ 
mascus,  Ba‘albek  and  Shechem ;  and  of  these,  only  the 
last  is  within  the  limits  of  the  ancient  Land  of  Israel. 


[149] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


The  whole  valley  around  Shechem  is  crowded  with 
a  luxuriant  growth  of  orchards  and  vineyards.  In 
the  town  itself  there  are  a  number  of  manufactories 
of  olive-oil  soap.  It  is  the  only  place  in  Palestine 
where  I  have  been  awakened  at  live  o’clock  in  the 
morning  by  the  shrill  blast  of  a  factory  whistle.  Out¬ 
side  of  Jerusalem,  which  is  a  show-place  rather  than 
a  self-sustaining  community,  Shechem  is  the  largest 
city  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  its  surroundings  are  by 
far  the  most  attractive. 

In  historical  interest  too,  Shechem  is  a  rival  of  the 
Holy  City.  Here  was  the  oak  of  Moreh,  where 
Abraham  "worshipped ;  and  an  increasing  number  of 
scholars  believe  that  the  Samaritans  are  right  in 
maintaining  that  not  at  Jerusalem  but  at  Gerizim 
was  Mount  Moriah,  where  Abraham  would  have  sac¬ 
rificed  Isaac.  Here  Jacob  dwelt  and  here  Joseph  was 
buried.  Here  the  curses  of  the  Law  were  read  from 
Ebal,  and  the  blessings  from  Gerizim,  while  the 
assembled  Tribes  of  Israel  in  the  narrow  valley 
between  shouted  the  loud  “Amen !”  Here  the  rebel 
Abimelech  was  crowned  king.  Here  also  Rehoboam 
was  crowned  and  here,  only  a  brief  time  afterward, 
Jeroboam  set  up  the  first  court  of  the  rival  Northern 
Kingdom.  Here,  after  the  Exile,  was  the  chief 
colony  of  the  “Samaritans,”  that  strange,  mongrel, 
lonely  people  from  Mesopotamia,  who  were  settled 
in  Palestine  by  the  Assyrian  conqueror,  who 
apparently  intermarried  for  a  while  with  the  Hebrew 


[150] 


Jacob’s  Well 


Copyright  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  N.  Y. 

The  village  of  Samaria  and  the  tree-clad  summit  where  stood  the 

ancient  capital 


THE  BACKBONE  OF  PALESTINE 


residents  and  picked  up  some  few  teachings  of  the 
Hebrew  religion  and  set  up  a  rival  to  the  Jerusalem 
temple  on  their  own  holy  mountain,  Gerizim ;  and  yet 
were  always  despised  by  the  orthodox  Jews,  whose 
contempt  they  reciprocated  with  a  bitter,  sullen 
hatred. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  modem  city  number  some 
24,000,  and  are  nearly  all  Moslems,  who  are  almost 
as  fanatical  and  turbulent  as  those  in  Hebron.  I 
have  seldom  felt  myself  more  of  an  unwelcomed 
intruder  than  when  riding  through  the  sullen  crowd 
in  the  Nablus  bazaar.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  place  for 
the  stranger  to  stroll  about  after  dark. 

Of  the  old  Samaritan  sect,  only  a  few  survive. 
There  are  now  fewer  than  two  hundred  of  them, 
and  their  number  is  rapidly  decreasing.  Another 
generation  or  two  will  doubtless  see  the  end  of  them. 
But  they  will  die  game.  They  are  as  proud  and 
exclusive  and  stubborn  as  ever.  They  marry  their 
own  boys  to  their  own  girls — there  are  pathetically 
few  of  either.  They  wear  their  own  distinctive  dress. 
They  jealously  guard  their  own  Bible — a  copy  of 
the  Pentateuch,  which  they  believe  to  have  been 
written  by  Abishua,  the  grandson  of  Aaron.  And  on 
the  summit  of  Gerizim,  by  the  ruins  of  their  ancient 
temple,  they  celebrate  the  Passover  and  the  other 
ancient  feasts  with  sacrifices  and  elaborate  cere¬ 
monies,  in  strict  accordance  with  the  Mosaic  ritual. 

At  the  eastern  end  of  the  Valley  of  Shechem,  two 


[151] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


miles  from  the  city,  is  a  sacred  place  which  is  unique 
among  the  myriad  of  reputed  and  disputed  sites  in 
the  Holy  Land;  for  “Jacob’s  Well”  is  the  only  par¬ 
ticular  spot  which  is  indisputably  identified  with  the 
life  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  We  know,  of  course,  that 
He  was  born  somewhere  in  Bethlehem,  and  visited  in 
some  houses  in  Capernaum,  and  prayed  in  some 
garden  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  died  somewhere 
outside  the  walls  of  Jerusalem.  But  scholars  of  all 
religions  and  sects,  Eastern  and  Western,  Catholic 
and  Protestant  and  Jewish  and  Samaritan  and 
Moslem,  agree  that  He  sat  here — perhaps  on  this 
very  well-curb — while  He  talked  with  the  woman  of 
Samaria  about  the  water  of  life. 

The  surrounding  parcel  of  land  is  now  owned  by 
the  Greeks,  who  have  enclosed  it  with  a  rough  stone 
wall.  Over  the  well  itself  is  built  a  small,  dark  vault, 
some  fifteen  feet  square,  and  lying  more  than  half 
underground.  This  tomb-like  structure  is  crudely 
fitted  up  as  a  chapel,  with  a  few  hanging  lamps  and 
ornamental  candlesticks  and  sacred  pictures,  and 
broken  fragments  of  columns  from  the  church  which 
was  built  here  in  the  fourth  century. 

The  well-curb  is  a  single  piece  of  stone,  very  old 
and  worn,  which  rises  a  foot  above  the  floor  of  the 
vault.  For  a  small  fee,  the  priest  will  let  down  a 
candle  so  that  you  can  see  the  interior  of  the  well. 
It  is  deep,  as  the  woman  of  Samaria  said,  though  it 
is  not  so  deep  now  as  it  was  then.  The  great  mass  of 

[152] 


THE  BACKBONE  OF  PALESTINE 


rubbish  which  has  fallen  into  it,  and  the  innumerable 
stones  which  have  been  dropped  by  centuries  of 
curious  pilgrims,  have  raised  the  bottom  so  that  it  is 
now  only  seventy-five  feet  below  the  surface  of  the 
valley.  Twelve  hundred  years  ago  a  Mohammedan 
visitor  estimated  the  depth  as  two  hundred  and  forty 
feet.  He  may  have  somewhat  exaggerated ;  but  at 
any  rate,  the  well  is  not  nearly  so  deep  as  it  used  to 
be,  and  during  the  dry  summer  months,  the  water  at 
the  bottom  does  not  now  rise  above  the  accumulated 
rubbish. 

As  we  come  out  from  the  gloom  of  the  chapel  over 
the  well,  we  see,  half  a  mile  to  the  north,  the  dazzling 
white  walls  of  “Joseph’s  Tomb,”  which  reflect  the 
rays  of  the  sun  almost  as  brightly  as  a  heliograph. 
Joseph  was  doubtless  buried  somewhere  nearby ;  but 
this  building  is  a  modem  Moslem  structure  which  is 
not  worth  visiting.  Such  welis ,  or  tombs  of  holy  men, 
are  typical  features  of  the  landscape,  and  are  seen 
shining  on  almost  every  conspicuous  summit  of  the 
country.  They  usually  consist  of  a  rectangular, 
block-like  structure,  surmounted  by  a  small  dome; 
and  when  one  is  seen  rising  all  alone  on  the  very  top 
of  some  round,  bare,  isolated  hill,  it  looks  so  much 
like  an  observatory  that  you  cannot  help  wishing 
that  there  were  indeed  a  telescope  set  up  there  in  the 
clear,  dry  atmosphere. 

Another  memorable  feature  of  Samaria  is  the 
countless  multitude  of  caves  in  the  soft  limestone 


[153] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


r  :  1  .  1  ■  .  ;  ~  . . -  "  1  . — 

rock.  Indeed  there  are  caves  all  over  Palestine,  lit¬ 
erally  tens  of  thousands  of  them,  ranging  in  size  all 
the  way  from  single  tomb-like  chambers  to  immense 
natural  catacombs  like  the  “Cave  of  Adullam”  in  the 
wilderness  south  of  Jerusalem.  In  Samaria  the  land¬ 
scape  is  fairly  dotted  with  dark,  mysterious  openings 
between  the  boulders,  so  that  we  are  continually 
reminded  of  how  the  fugitive  prophets  of  Israel  hid 
in  “mountains,  and  in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth.” 

Ten  miles  northwest  of  Shechem  lies  the  other 
great,  historic  stronghold  of  central  Palestine,  the 
city  of  Samaria.  But  where  Shechem  is  a  busy, 
modern  city  in  a  narrow  valley,  Samaria  is  a  squalid 
village  among  imposing  ruins  on  an  isolated  hilltop. 
They  call  it  now  Sebastiyeh,  from  the  Greek  Sebaste , 
“Augustus.” 

The  situation  of  Samaria  is  very  beautiful,  in  a 
quiet,  peaceful  way.  In  the  center  of  a  fertile  basin 
among  the  mountains,  rises  a  single  rounded,  terraced 
hill,  about  three  hundred  feet  high,  which  must  have 
been  almost  impregnable  before  the  invention  of 
gunpowder.  Upon  its  summit  stood  the  luxurious 
capital  which  Isaiah  well  named  “the  crown  of  pride” 
of  the  Northern  Kingdom,  the  “flower  of  his  glori¬ 
ous  beauty,  which  is  on  the  head  of  the  fat  valley.” 
To  this  day,  the  circle  of  surrounding  valleys  is  “fat” 
with  olive  orchards,  the  hillsides  beyond  are  cov¬ 
ered  with  grape  vines  and  wild  flowers,  and  from  the 

[154] 


THE  BACKBONE  OF  PALESTINE 


western  end  of  the  city  is  one  of  the  most  charming 
views  in  Palestine,  over  the  nearest  hills  and  then 
down  through  the  distant  vales  to  the  Mediterranean 
Sea.  Doubtless  Queen  Jezebel  often  looked  out  from 
Ahab’s  palace  in  Samaria  with  homesick  longing  for 
the  Great  Sea  whose  waves  beat  upon  the  coast  of 
her  own  native  Phoenicia. 

This  stronghold  within  sight  of  the  sea  has  been 
more  often  in  the  grip  of  heathen  masters  and 
heathen  faiths  than  any  other  large  city  in  the  Holy 
Land.  Its  important  history  begins  with  Ahab  and 
Jezebel,  who  built  here  a  temple  of  Baal;  it  ends  with 
Herod  the  Great,  who  built  here  a  temple  to  Augustus 
Caesar,  and  who  murdered  here  his  own  wife  and  two 
of  his  sons.  Difficult  as  Samaria  is  to  be  taken  by 
assault,  it  has  been  starved  out  again  and  again.  Its 
history  is  a  monotonous  and  sickening  succession  of 
sieges  and  razings  and  massacres,  followed  by  the 
rebuilding  and  embellishing  of  a  new  city  by  the  con¬ 
queror.  Herod  the  Great  not  only  fortified  Samaria, 
but  erected  upon  it  a  palace  and  a  temple  and  a  race 
course  and  a  magnificent  colonnade  which  ran  entirely 
around  the  hill,  just  below  its  summit. 

These  columns  of  Herod  are  the  most  prominent 
objects  on  the  hill  to-day.  Some  are  still  standing  in 
their  original  position  beside  the  road.  Many  are 
built  into  the  low  walls  which  separate  the  little  fields 
of  the  villagers.  Others  buttress  the  terraces  and 
border  the  paths.  A  multitude  lie  where  they  have 

[155] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


stopped  rolling  down  the  hill,  broken  and  weathered 
and  half-covered  with  earth.  Carved  sarcophagi  are 
also  seen  here  and  there ;  and  heavy  foundations  of 
long  vanished  buildings.  Samaria  is  a  veritable  rub¬ 
bish-heap  of  broken  stones  and  fallen  pillars  and 
crumbled  masonry  and  whitish  dust.  The  houses  of 
the  tiny  modern  settlement  at  the  east  end  of  the  hill 
are  built  on  rubbish  and  seem  to  be  built  of  rubbish. 
The  city  of  Jezebel  and  Herod,  for  all  its  matchless 
situation  and  the  surrounding  fertility,  has  become 
a  desolate  ruin,  even  as  it  was  foretold  by  the  prophet 
Micah, 

“I  will  make  Samaria  as  a  heap  of  the  field, 

And  as  places  for  planting  vineyards ; 

And  I  will  pour  down  the  stones  thereof  into 
the  valley, 

And  I  will  uncover  the  foundations  thereof.” 


[156] 


XV 


THE  WAR-PATH  OF  THE  EMPIRES 


BETWEEN  Samaria  and  Galilee  the  central 
mountain  range  of  Palestine  is  cut  through 
from  east  to  west,  as  if  a  tremendous  trowel 
had  scooped  out  all  the  hills  and  then,  turning  over 
southward,  had  emptied  its  load  to  form  Mount 
Carmel.  This  triangular  leveled  area  is  the  Plain  of 
Jezreel,  or  Megiddo,  or  Esdraelon,  or  the  “Great 
Plain” ;  a  kind  of  broad  channel  separating  Galilee 
from  Samaria  as  effectually  as  the  English  Channel 
separates  Great  Britain  from  France,  and,  like  the 
English  Channel,  a  highway  for  the  world’s 
commerce. 

Of  course  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon  is  neither  abso¬ 
lutely  level  nor  exactly  triangular.  At  its  western 
end  it  divides  into  narrower  valleys  which  connect 
with  the  Plain  of  Acre  and  the  Plain  of  Sharon.  At 
the  east  it  drops  down  to  the  Jordan  Valley  by  sev¬ 
eral  branches.  But  so  sharply  does  it  contrast  with 
the  surrounding  heights  that  to  the  eye  it  appears 
to  be  a  great,  smooth  triangle,  whose  base  from  north 
to  south  measures  fifteen  miles,  and  whose  altitude 
from  east  to  west  is  about  twenty  miles.  The  south- 

1157] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


western  side  is  bounded  by  the  bills  of  Samaria, 
which  run  out  into  the  long,  even  mass  of  Mount 
Carmel.  At  the  north  are  the  highlands  of  Galilee. 
The  eastern  edge  is  indicated  less  clearly  by  a  string 
of  separated  mountains :  Gilboa,  Little  Hermon  and 
Tabor.  The  area  thus  enclosed  not  only  appears  per¬ 
fectly  horizontal,  but  is  unbroken  by  houses  or  trees 
or  streams.  The  narrow  Kishon,  or  “Twister,” 
meanders  along  between  high  mud  banks  which  pre¬ 
vent  it  being  seen  from  any  distance.  So  the  plain 
seems  like  the  level  surface  of  a  body  of  water,  brown 
or  green  according  to  the  season,  lying  unruffled  by 
the  breeze,  within  the  bold  headlands  which  encompass 
it.  Indeed,  this  was  once  an  arm  of  the  great  Jordan 
Valley  lake.  Sometime,  under  proper  cultivation,  it 
will  be  one  of  the  most  productive  wheat  fields  in  the 
world ;  for  in  the  rainy  season  the  old  lake  bottom 
is  one  broad,  fertile  mud-flat. 

I 

Judea  is  an  island  of  hilltops,  separated  from  the 
world  outside  by  sudden  valleys  and  barren  deserts, 
and  with  no  important  trade  routes  crossing  it. 
Samaria  is  more  open  and  accessible,  whether  for 
friends  or  foes ;  and  so  Samaria  was  more  affected 
by  corrupt  heathen  civilizations  and  fell  sooner 
before  invading  armies.  But  the  great  road  across 
Palestine  passes  through  the  level  plain  of  Esdrae- 
lon.  This  was  the  greatest  thoroughfare  of  the 
ancient  world.  From  Sharon  to  Jordan,  from 
Phoenicia  to  Bashan,  from  Rome  to  Palmyra,  from 


[158] 


The  Kishon  River  and  Mount  Carmel 


t 


Looking  across  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon  to  Mount  Tabor 


THE  WAR-PATH  OF  THE  EMPIRES 


Gaza  to  Bagdad,  from  the  Mediterranean  to  the  Sea 
of  Galilee,  from  Cairo  to  Babylon,  from  the  Occident 
to  the  Orient  and  back  again ;  the  caravans  of  count¬ 
less  centuries  passed  and  repassed  along  the  “Great 
Plain.” 

It  is  no  wonder  that  this  easiest,  most-traveled 
highway  of  antiquity  has  been  also  the  war-path  of 
the  empires,  the  scene  of  more  decisive  battles  than 
any  other  place  on  earth.  Again  and  again,  through 
forty  centuries,  the  fate  of  continents  has  hung  in 
the  balance  while  the  armies  of  East  and  West  fought 
across  the  smiling  wheat  fields  or  floundered  in  the 
springtime  morasses  of  the  flooded  Kishon  River. 

From  the  summit  of  Mount  Tabor,  Deborah  looked 
down  upon  the  plain  where  the  army  of  Sisera  had 
been  routed  by  Barak,  and  sang: 

“The  kings  came  and  fought ; 

Then  fought  the  kings  of  Canaan, 

In  Taanach  by  the  waters  of  Megiddo.  .  .  . 
The  river  Kishon  swept  them  away, 

That  ancient  river,  the  river  Kishon. 

Oh,  my  soul,  march  on  with  strength.” 

In  the  valley  north  of  the  hill  of  Moreh  (Little 
Hermon)  Gideon’s  gallant  band  of  three  hundred 
picked  men  routed  the  invading  Midianites  from 
beyond  Jordan  by  their  sudden  night  attack.  On 
Mount  Gilboa,  Saul  and  Jonathan  made  their  last, 


[159] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


tragic  stand  against  the  Philistine  army.  In  the 
southwestern  arm  of  the  plain,  King  Josiah  was 
defeated  and  slain  by  the  Egyptian  army  in  the 
“Valley  of  Megiddo.” 

Holofernes  set  up  his  camp  on  the  Plain  of 
Esdraelon;  so  did  Pompey  and  Mark  Antony  and 
Titus.  Near  Mount  Tabor,  Vespasian  in  the  year 
67  A.  D.  routed  the  Jewish  patriots  with  great 
slaughter.  The  last  significant  campaign  of  the 
Crusades  took  place  when,  one  after  another,  the 
Christian  strongholds  on  the  edges  of  this  plain  were 
captured  by  the  Saracen  army  under  Saladin.  Six 
hundred  years  later,  East  and  West  again  met  on 
the  historic  battlefield,  when  Napoleon  Bonaparte  was 
victorious  over  the  Turks,  though  the  victory  was 
won  at  such  great  cost  that  he  had  to  retreat  to  Acre 
and  give  up  his  ambitious  dreams  of  rivalling  Alex¬ 
ander  the  Great  as  the  conqueror  of  Asia.  It  only 
remains  to  recall  that  the  plain  had  so  strong  a  hold 
upon  Hebrew  imagination  as  the  greatest  of  all  bat¬ 
tlefields  that,  when  the  Apocalypse  (Rev.  16:16) 
pictures  the  final  conflict  between  the  forces  of  good 
and  evil,  “the  battle  of  that  great  day  of  God 
Almighty”  is  fought  at  Ar-mageddon,*  i.e Megiddo. 

*  Ar-mageddon  is  somewhat  perplexing,  because  ar  (better, 
har )  means  “mountain,”  not  “plain.”  Some  think  that  it  means 
Mount  Tabor.  But  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  reference 
is  to  this  general  locality,  as  the  scene  of  so  many  decisive 
battles. 


[160] 


THE  WAR-PATH  OF  THE  EMPIRES 


Of  course  no  city  could  long  escape  destruction  on 
this  war-path  of  the  world;  so  no  place  of  any 
importance  has  ever  been  built  on  the  plain  itself. 
The  strongholds  of  Esdraelon  have  always  been  on 
spurs  of  the  surrounding  mountains.  Megiddo, 
Taanach  and  Engannim  on  the  southwestern  side  of 
the  triangle;  Harosheth  at  the  western  apex;  Jezreel, 
Shunem,  Nain  and  Endor  at  the  eastern  base  of  the 
central  plain :  all  are  a  little  way  up  on  the  slope  of 
the  mountains. 

As  we  ride  northward  toward  Galilee,  we  come 
first  to  Jezreel  (now  Zer'in ),  on  a  rounded  hill 
three  hundred  feet  in  height,  which  is  thrown  out 
into  the  plain  from  the  last  northernmost  spur  of 
Mount  Gilboa.  The  situation  is  so  beautiful  and 
commanding  that  it  is  no  wonder  that  luxury-loving 
Ahab  and  Jezebel  chose  it  for  their  favorite  residence. 
But  the  royal  city  was  cursed  by  idolatry  and  cruelty, 
whose  classic  instance  was  the  murderous  plot  for 
acquiring  Naboth’s  vineyard;  and  the  history  of  Jez¬ 
reel  as  a  place  of  any  importance  ended  when  Jehu 
massacred  the  family  and  adherents  of  Ahab  and  cast 
the  body  of  proud,  wicked  Jezebel  out  of  the  palace 
window.  To-day  the  soft  pasture-land  of  the  rounded 
hill  is  covered  with  grazing  flocks  and  dotted  with 
black  Bedouin  tents.  Only  thirty  or  forty  hovels 
cluster  about  the  ruin  of  a  large  square  tower,  which 
rises  like  a  monument  at  the  very  summit  of  the  hill. 

Seven  miles  to  the  north,  beyond  the  head  of  the 


11 


[161] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


eastern  branch  of  the  plain  which  was  presumably  the 
original  “Valley  of  Jezreel,”  the  hill  Moreh  rises  to 
a  height  of  1,690  feet,  its  summit  crowned  conspicu¬ 
ously  by  the  white-domed  tomb  of  a  Moslem  saint. 
The  same  zeal  which  localized  so  many  Biblical  events 
within  the  confines  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepul¬ 
chre  caused  the  early  Christian  pilgrims  to  move 
Mount  Hermon  from  its  somewhat  inaccessible  north¬ 
ern  situation  and  identify  it  with  this  hill  on  the 
Plain  of  Esdraelon.  Since  the  mistake  was  rectified, 
the  elevation  has  been  commonly  known  among  Euro¬ 
peans  as  “ Little  Hermon.” 

On  its  western  slopes,  a  little  above  the  plain,  are 
the  villages  of  Shunem,  Nain  and  Endor;  all  charm¬ 
ingly  situated,  but  all  alike,  small,  crowded,  unsan¬ 
itary  collections  of  mud  huts.  I  have  a  special  inter¬ 
est  in  Shunem  because,  unlike  Elisha  who  received 
such  a  hospitable  welcome  there,  my  friend  and  I  were 
stoned  out  of  the  village.  The  only  other  place  where 
I  have  been  stoned  is  Jenin;  and  in  both  cases  it 
was  apparently  only  the  work  of  a  mob  of  the  same 
kind  of  young  roughs  who,  in  America,  would  insult 
a  Chinese  or  a  Japanese  stranger. 

Following  the  eastern  edge  of  the  plain  across  the 
mouth  of  another  branch  which  descends  to  the  Jor¬ 
dan  Valley,  we  reach  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
interesting  of  mountains,  Tabor.  It  is  less  than  two 
thousand  feet  in  height,  but  from  a  little  distance  its 
hemispherical  mass  seems  to  start  upward  right  from 

[162] 


THE  WAR-PATH  OF  THE  EMPIRES 


the  level  plain,  and  its  steepness,  as  well  as  its  isola¬ 
tion,  make  it  an  ideal  place  for  a  fortress  or  a  watch- 
tower.  Small  oak  trees  still  cover  a  good  part  of  the 
mountainside,  the  open  spaces  provide  a  fair  pastur¬ 
age,  and  among  the  bushes  are  numerous  game-birds 
and  small  wild  animals,  such  as  foxes  and  rabbits. 

The  summit  is  now  divided  between  two  monas¬ 
teries,  belonging  respectively  to  the  Latin  and  Greek 
Churches.  Both  are  built  on  the  sites  of  very  ancient 
Christian  structures,  and  both  claim  that  the  Trans¬ 
figuration  took  place  within  their  precincts.  There 
are  two  exceptions  to  the  rule  that  Oriental  dogs 
are  starved,  spiritless  creatures,  which  lie  all  day  long 
in  the  road,  only  moving  a  little  out  of  the  way  when 
they  are  kicked,  or  to  avoid  being  trampled  upon  by 
a  passing  horse.  The  dogs  of  the  Bedouins  and  of  the 
monasteries  are  great,  courageous  beasts,  which 
resent  any  intrusion  upon  the  premises  they  are 
guarding.  One  of  m}^  friends  had  to  shoot  a  Bedouin 
dog  before  it  would  loose  its  grip  upon  the  flank  of 
his  galloping  horse.  But  the  biggest,  fiercest  dogs 
I  have  ever  had  to  do  with  personally  are  those  on 
Mount  Tabor.  They  are  usually  chained  during  the 
daytime ;  but  if  they  happen  to  be  loose,  it  would  be 
a  very  reckless  visitor  who  would  attempt  to  dis¬ 
mount  at  the  monastery  gate  before  the  monks 
appeared. 

The  artificially  leveled  summit  of  Tabor  was  once 
entirely  occupied  by  an  enormous  fortress,  whose 

[163] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


outer  ramparts  enclosed  an  area  several  times  as  large 
as  the  entire  walled  city  of  Jerusalem.  The  castle  is 
now  a  mass  of  hardly  distinguishable  ruins,  among 
which  can  be  made  out  the  outlines  of  several  towers 
and  a  little  church.  Among  the  heaps  of  fallen 
stones  are  a  number  of  dark  openings,  leading 
apparently  to  underground  passages  which  it  would 
be  interesting,  though  perhaps  dangerous,  to  explore. 

While  some  of  the  lower  foundations  of  this  castle 
go  back  to  Roman  times  and  perhaps  earlier,  the 
larger  part  of  the  ruins  are  of  Crusading  origin.  All 
over  Palestine  and  Syria,  from  the  northern  heights 
of  Lebanon  down  to  the  Sinaitic  Peninsula,  at  Sidon 
on  the  coast,  and  Ranias  below  Mount  Hermon,  and 
“Belfort”  by  the  Jordan,  and  “Belvoir”  overlooking 
the  gorge  of  the  Leontes,  and  on  many  another 
strategic  situation  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  Latin  Kingdom  of  Jerusalem,  are 
the  remains  of  these  old  Frankish  fortresses.  Prob¬ 
ably  nine-tenths  of  the  ancient  buildings  in  Palestine 
date  from  the  twelfth  century.  We  are  filled  with 
wonder  and  admiration  as  we  contemplate  the  evi¬ 
dences  of  the  architectural  knowledge,  administrative 
ability  and  splendid  daring  of  those  Crusading 
princes,  who,  with  comparatively  small  bodies  of 
troops  scattered  here  and  there  through  a  strange 
land,  surrounded  by  a  suspicious  and  unfriendly 
populace,  and  always  in  danger  of  raids  from  the 
Arab  world  just  to  the  east,  yet  set  up,  not  a  mere 

[164] 


THE  WAR-PATH  OF  THE  EMPIRES 


provisional  military  government,  but  a  completely 
organized  kingdom,  with  all  the  ecclesiastical  and 
judicial  and  political  machinery  of  the  Western  civil¬ 
ization  to  which  they  were  accustomed,  and  built, 
not  temporary  shelters  and  earthen  breastworks,  but 
entire  new  cities  and  beautiful  cathedrals  and  tre¬ 
mendous  fortresses  which,  even  in  their  ruins,  are 
among  the  largest  and  most  impressive  in  the  world. 


[165] 


XVI 


GREETINGS  BY  THE  WAY 

WHEN  a  certain  Oriental  charged  His  disciples 
to  “salute  no  man  on  the  way,”  He  did  not 
intend  to  lay  down  a  permanent  rule  of 
conduct ;  for  this  would  have  been  to  strike  at  one  of 
the  strongest  social  customs  of  His  age  and  country. 
The  Seventy  were  sent  out  upon  such  an  urgent  mis¬ 
sion  that  they  must  disregard  even  the  ordinary 
amenities  until  their  task  was  accomplished  ;  but  there 
is  no  indication  that  they  were  lacking  in  courtesy 
after  this  particular  journey  was  ended.  The  runner 
who  is  bearing  an  important  message  cannot  stop  for 
mere  politeness’  sake ;  but  we  should  not  be  always  on 
the  run,  and  we  quite  miss  the  spirit  of  this  injunction 
of  Christ  when  we  apply  it  to  our  own  everyday  lives, 
and  use  it  as  an  excuse  for  a  brusqueness  that  was 
never  taught  by  the  Master  or  manifested  in  His  own 
conduct.  We  shall  be  nearer  the  mind  of  Christ  if 
we  remember  rather  that  other  time  when  He  taught 
His  followers  to  greet  every  person  whom  they  met; 
for  “if  ye  salute  your  brethren  only,  what  do  ye  more 
than  others  ?” 

The  modern  inhabitants  of  the  Holy  Land  are 
seldom  discourteous,  except  where  they  have  come 

[166] 


The  village  of  Nain.  In  the  background,  Mount  Tabor 


Syrian  villagers 


GREETINGS  BY  THE  WAY 


under  European  or  American  influence.  In  the  sea¬ 
port  towns,  travelers  often  have  to  complain  of  the 
insolence  of  the  lower  classes ;  but  this  is  because  the 
natives  have  copied  our  Western  freedom  and  blunt¬ 
ness  of  speech,  without  learning,  also,  the  underlying 
modesty  and  honor  which  we  like  to  believe  compen¬ 
sate  for  our  plain-spoken  words.  The  unspoiled 
Syrian,  however,  is  by  nature  and  training  a  person 
of  great  politeness,  and  of  infinite  tact.  This  is  true 
of  poor  as  well  as  of  rich,  and  the  illiterate  Arabs  of 
the  desert  are  famous  for  their  good  manners.  How 
different  this  is  from  our  Occidental  civilization, 
where  the  very  root  of  “urbanity”  and  “civility”  must 
be  found  in  the  “city”  life !  The  Oriental  is  also  gifted 
with  an  ability  to  read  human  nature,  which  seems 
almost  miraculous  to  our  heavier  minds.  School¬ 
boys  get  to  know  the  pet  weaknesses  of  their  Amer¬ 
ican  teacher  long  before  they  learn  the  English 
“A  B  C,”  and  I  have  heard  grimy  bootblacks  dissect 
the  characters  of  foreign  missionaries  and  tourists 
with  an  acumen  that  was  positively  uncanny.  When 
such  an  insight  is  coupled  with  a  desire  to  please, 
inspired  by  a  highly  imaginative  mind,  and  equipped 
with  a  language  more  rich  than  any  other  in  the  world 
except  our  own  conglomerate  English,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  social  intercourse  in  Palestine  is  marked  by  irre¬ 
sistible  refinement  and  tact — and  seems  to  waste  a 
great  deal  of  time  ! 

As  indicated  also  in  the  etymology  of  our  English 

[167] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


word  “salute,”  the  greetings  of  the  East  largely  have 
to  do  with  bodily  “safety”  and  peace;  yet  there  is 
hardly  any  situation  in  life  that  has  not  its  own  par¬ 
ticular  salutation  and  reply.  These  are  elastic 
enough,  however,  to  admit  of  almost  infinite  varia¬ 
tions  of  wording  and  wrarmth. 

If  you  meet  a  friend  on  the  crowded  street  of  a 
city,  you  perhaps  will  not  stop  for  a  conversation; 
but  as  you  pass  by  you  say,  Naharak  sa‘id,  “May 
your  day  be  happy,”  and  he  answers,  Sa‘id  umbarak, 
May  your  own  day  be  “happy  and  blessed.”  These 
greetings,  as  well  as  those  which  follow,  are  not  so 
lengthy  as  the  English  translation  would  seem  to 
indicate.  In  the  Arabic  there  are  seldom  more  than 
two  or  three  words,  which  are  often  rhyming  or  allit¬ 
erative.  Other  passing  salutations  are,  “May  your 
day  be  white,”  or,  “May  God  give  you  prosperity,” 
or,  “Good  health  to  you.”  Up  on  Lebanon  the  sturdy 
mountaineer  greets  you  with  “Welcome !”  and  you 
reply,  “A  double  welcome !”  In  certain  parts  of 
Judea  the  farmer  says,  “May  God  give  you  health,” 
to  which  there  is  but  one  proper  response,  “May  He 
give  you  health  and  peace.”  But  if  you  are  a  Chris¬ 
tian,  you  must  not  say  to  a  Moslem,  “Peace  be  unto 
you,”  for  this  greeting  is  used  only  between  brethren 
of  the  same  faith.* 

*  Perhaps  the  most  significant  incident  of  the  recent  revolu¬ 
tion  was  the  jubilant  celebration  of  the  new  era  of  fraternity, 
during  which  Moslems  greeted  Christians  as  “brethren”  and 
wished  them  “peace.” 


[168] 


GREETINGS  BY  THE  WAY 


If  you  have  time  to  stop  and  talk  awhile,  which  is 
nearly  always  the  case  outside  of  the  larger  cities,  or 
better  yet,  if  there  is  a  visitor  at  your  own  home,  you 
continue  your  inquiries  as  to  his  health  while  he  sips 
the  cooling  sherbet  which  your  servant  has  brought. 
“How  are  you?  How  is  your  condition? — health? — 
well-being?  —  work?  —  affairs?  —  possessions?  — 
manner  of  living?”  Every  now  and  then  you  will 
interject,  “ Inshallah  (please  God)  }rou  are  well?” 
and  your  guest  will  supplement  his  affirmative  reply 
with  the  abbreviated  Hamdillah ,  “God  be  thanked!” 
At  any  time  that  there  is  a  lull  in  the  conversation, 
the  polite  inquiries  can  begin  all  over  again.  After 
an  hour's  talk  with  an  English-speaking  Syrian,  I 
have  heard  him  make  a  fresh  start  with,  “Good  after¬ 
noon,  sir!  How  are  you?” 

When  your  friend  comes  from  the  bath  or  from 
being  shaved,  you  would  be  lacking  in  civility  if  you 
did  not  gravely  say  to  him,  “God  prosper  you.” 
When  he  appears  in  a  new  suit  you  greet  him  with  a 
different  blessing.  If  you  wish  to  be  very  polite,  you 
say,  “May  you  wear  it  out  with  the  sweat  of  health.” 
As  a  man  rises  from  table  you  say,  “May  you  have 
double  health,”  and  he  turns  the  wish  by  adding, 
“Unto  your  own  heart !”  After  a  person  has  recov¬ 
ered  from  an  illness,  it  is  natural  to  greet  him  with, 
“Thank  God  you  are  well” ;  but  the  response  must 
always  take  the  set  form,  “May  God  give  you  also 
health.”  At  a  wedding,  after  you  have  exclaimed  to 

[169] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


the  bridegroom,  “0  blessed  hour !”  you  turn  to  the 
guest  near  you,  and  wish  that  his  turn  may  come  next. 
If  he  is  already  married,  the  expression  has  to  be  a 
little  changed :  “May  it  be  the  turn  of  your  son  next.’5 
The  different  holidays  and  holy  days  have  character¬ 
istic  salutations,  as  with  us ;  but  it  is  significant  of 
the  lack  of  security  for  life  and  property  that  the 
New  Years’s  wish  is  for  “safety,55  not,  as  in  the  West, 
for  a  more  active  happiness. 

The  salutations  just  mentioned  do  not  form  a  tithe 
of  those  used  in  everyday  intercourse.  There  are  hun¬ 
dreds  of  set  phrases,  with  an  infinite  number  of  varia¬ 
tions  to  suit  every  possible  contingency.  At  first  the 
Frank  is  apt  to  chafe  under  the  tedium  of  these  multi¬ 
farious  courtesies;  but  before  long  he  comes  to  love 
the  beautiful  greetings,  and  misses  them  when  now  and 
then  they  are  lacking.  I  remember  riding  one  day 
through  a  village  in  northern  Lebanon  that  is  famous 
for  the  number  of  its  inhabitants  who  have  amassed 
moderate  fortunes  in  America,  and  then  returned  to 
their  own  land  to  end  their  days  in  comparative  lux¬ 
ury.  The  first  man  whom  we  passed  greeted  us  with : 
"Hello!  You  boys  talk  English?”  The  second  way¬ 
farer  shouted :  “Hello  !  I  been  New  York.  You  fellows 
Americans,  too?”  After  that  we  answered  passers-by 
in  Italian,  until  we  found  a  gray-bearded  old  man  who 
asked  twenty-seven  Arabic  questions  about  our  distin¬ 
guished  healths  before  he  would  tell  us  whether  we 
ought  to  take  the  left-hand  road  or  that  to  the  right. 

[170] 


GREETINGS  BY  THE  WAY 


Travelers  in  the  Holy  Land  are  apt'  to  condemn 
the  natives  because  they  do  not  really  mean  all  the 
kind  wishes  and  protestations  of  friendship  which  are 
expressed  in  so  many  different  forms.  But  do  we 
Americans  always  mean  just  what  we  say  when  we 
chop  off  a  curt,  “G’mornin’,”  or,  “Glad  t’meetche”? 
The  people  of  Palestine  are  not  hoodwinked  by  the 
protestations  of  a  false  friend  any  more  than  we  are, 
and  the  Arabic  salutations  are  not  necessarily  less 
sincere  than  ours,  just  because  they  are  more  varied 
and  beautiful. 

I  always  feel  like  a  barbarian  when  I  think  of  my 
muleteer,  Abu  Mustapha.  He  was  fat  and  lazy,  he 
did  not  know  the  roads,  and  he  lagged  so  far  behind 
that  we  dubbed  him  Y awash,  which  is  Turkish  for 
“Go  slow!”  On  the  fourth  day  of  the  journey  I 
discharged  him  with  the  least  possible  bakhsheesh , 
and  with  a  blunt  American  statement  as  to  what  I 
thought  of  his  character.  Yawash,  with  a  gloomy 
countenance,  went  to  the  stable  and  harnessed  his 
mules.  Then  he  shuffled  shamefacedly  into  my  room 
and  put  out  his  grimy  hand,  saying  quietly,  “Fare¬ 
well,  master!  Go  in  peace!”  If  he  cared  at  all 
whether  I  lived  or  died,  it  is  probable  that  he  would 
have  preferred  the  latter  alternative ;  but,  I  repeat,  I 
always  feel  like  a  rough-spoken  barbarian  when  I 
compare  myself  with  fat,  lazy  old  Abu  Mustapha. 

But  it  is  only  when  the  Arabic  salutations  fall  from 
the  lips  of  a  true  friend  that  you  come  to  appreciate 

[171] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


the  beauty  of  these  time-honored  compliments.  When 
a  kindly  host  walks  with  the  departing  guest,  not  one 
mile  but  twain  along  the  mountain  road,  and  wishes 
him  peace  and  safety  on  the  dangerous  journey;  when 
a  gray-bearded  sheikh  raises  his  turbaned  head  to 
heaven  and  invokes  the  manifold  blessings  of  the  God 
of  Abraham;  when  in  the  ’buses  of  London  or  the 
subway  of  New  York  you  meet  an  old  friend  who 
drops  his  newly  learned  English  to  greet  you  in  the 
more  rhythmical  Arabic  of  his  Eastern  home ;  then  the 
oft-repeated  phrases  can  be  filled  with  a  very  tender 
beauty.  Foreign  residents  in  Palestine  come  to  use 
the  native  salutations  even  when  talking  among  them¬ 
selves.  At  first  it  is  done  half  in  fun;  but  there  is 
soon  felt  an  increasing  desire  to  intersperse  these  deli¬ 
cately-turned  expressions  through  the  bolder  English 
speech,  until  at  last  only  the  short  Saxon  “good-by” 
takes  precedence  over  the  gracious  Arabic  phrases, 
many  of  which  translate  word  for  word  the  ancient 
greetings  that  must  have  often  come  from  the  lips  of 
Jesus  of  Nazareth, 


[172] 


XVII 


The  Ring  of  the  gentiles 

GALILEE  is  different  from  the  rest  of  Palestine. 
As  you  ride  across  the  flat  Plain  of  Esdraelon 
towards  the  line  of  hills  which  rises  abruptly 
from  its  northern  edge,  like  a  gigantic  fortification, 
you  have  time  to  prepare  for  a  scenery  and  a  history 
very  unlike  those  of  the  cramped,  shut-in  mountain 
country  where  most  of  the  important  events  of 
Hebrew  history  took  place. 

The  northern  district  toward  which  we  are  riding 
was  no  hidden  sanctuary  for  the  slow  growth  of  a 
national  spirit  and  a  lofty  faith.  It  was  the  cross¬ 
roads  of  the  nations.  The  Old  Testament  seldom 
mentions  it  except  as  the  scene  of  fitful  forays  and 
frontier  skirmishes.  In  New  Testament  days  it  was 
despised  by  the  conservative  southern  Jews  for  its 
Greco-Roman  civilization  and  was  called  Galilee 
( Galil  means  “Ring”  or  Province)  of  the  Gentiles. 
As  in  the  case  of  French  Provence,  the  name  was 
finally  shortened  to  just  Galilee — the  Province. 

This  Galilee  was  famous  for  the  wealth  and  beauty 
of  its  cities,  and  its  European  culture.  So  the  excla¬ 
mation,  “Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth?” 

[173] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


did  not  imply  that  the  place  was  an  obscure,  secluded, 
ignorant  country  village ;  but  rather  meant,  “Can 
any  good  Jewish  thing  come  out  of  this  city,  which 
is  so  near  to  the  great  trade  routes  of  the  world  and 
so  surrounded  by  the  luxurious  and  corrupting  influ¬ 
ences  of  Gentile  life  that  it  has  become  out  of  sym¬ 
pathy  with  the  ideals  of  historic  Judaism?” 

Geologically  this  northern  district  is  connected 
with  Syria  rather  than  Palestine;  for  the  heights  of 
Galilee  are  long,  root-like  spurs  thrown  southward 
from  the  mountains  of  Lebanon.  Politically,  it  is 
to-day  included  in  the  vilayet  of  Beirut. 

Rising  at  the  south  from  about  the  level  of  the 
Samaritan  hills  beyond  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon,  the 
northern  half  of  Galilee  has  the  highest  average  ele¬ 
vation  of  any  part  of  Palestine.  The  entire  district 
seems  much  more  fertile  than  any  we  have  yet  visited. 
The  scenery  is  more  like  that  at  home.  Numerous 
unfailing  brooks  are  fed  by  the  springs  in  the  north¬ 
ern  mountains.  The  out-croppings  of  bare  gray 
rock  are  fewer  than  even  in  Samaria.  Among  the 
scattered  forest  trees  of  the  hilltops  is  a  close  growth 
of  underbrush ;  in  the  valleys  are  rich  wheat  fields 
and  olive  orchards ;  and  on  the  middle  slopes  are 
broad,  swelling,  grassy  pasture  lands  like  those  of 
Scotland. 

Indeed,  when  comparing  Galilee  with  the  rest  of 
Palestine,  you  are  often  reminded  of  Scotland.  The 
air  is  fresher  and  more  moist  than  in  the  south.  The 


[174] 


53 

so 

N 

s 

(X) 

p* 


3 


p* 

0> 


p 

o 

>-t 


p* 

<I> 

so 


cn 


The  Spring  of  the  Lady  Mary 


THE  RING  OF  THE  GENTILES 


climate  is  cooler.  The  outlook  is  freer.  The  moun¬ 
tains  are  higher.  The  inhabitant*  seem  more  inde¬ 
pendent — and  sometimes  more  churlish.  Like  Scot¬ 
land,  Galilee  has  long  been  noted  for  its  turbulence 
and  its  impatience  of  southern  rule.  The  Galileans 
were  always  rebels  at  heart.  One  thinks  also  of  how 
Scotland  was  for  centuries  in  heartier  sympathy  with 
France  than  with  England,  just  as  Galilee  was  in 
such  close  touch  with  Gentile  civilization.  To  com¬ 
plete  the  comparison,  from  both  of  these  virile,  inde¬ 
pendent  northern  peoples  have  come  intellectual  and 
religious  leaders  of  world-wide  influence. 

The  chief  town  of  modern  Galilee  is  Nazareth, 
which  has  given  its  name  to  all  Oriental  Christians, 
who  are  now  called  in  Arabic  Nasara  (singular 
Nusrani)  or  “Nazareth-people.”  The  town  lies  in  a 
shallow  basin  among  the  hills  at  the  extreme  southern 
edge  of  Galilee,  a  thousand  feet  above  the  Plain  of 
Esdraelon.  From  a  distance,  the  cluster  of  houses, 
like  all  Syrian  towns,  is  dazzling  white ;  seen  from 
nearby,  the  circle  of  green  orchards  and  cactus  hedges 
(introduced  into  Palestine  from  America!)  is  a 
notable  and  pleasing  feature  of  the  landscape.  The 
inhabitants  number  about  10,000,  of  whom  a  third 
are  Moslems.  The  people  of  Nazareth  have  the 
reputation  of  being  rude  and  inhospitable.  I  found 
them,  however,  very  polite  and  obliging. 

On  account  of  its  fine  location  and  sacred  associa¬ 
tions,  there  is  a  larger  foreign  element  in  Nazareth 

[175] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


than  in  any  other  city  of  Palestine  except  Jerusalem. 
The  Russians  have  here  schools  for  boys  and  girls, 
a  pilgrim’s  hospice  and  a  normal  college ;  the  Ger¬ 
mans  have  a  hotel  and  a  mill;  the  Scotch  have  a  med¬ 
ical  mission ;  the  English  have  an  orphanage  and  a 
church  (with  a  Syrian  rector).  There  are  relig¬ 
ious  houses  of  various  Latin  orders,  such  as  the  Fran¬ 
ciscans,  the  Clarisses,  the  Sisters  of  St.  Joseph,  and 
the  Ladies  of  Nazareth.  The  Greek  Orthodox,  Greek 
Catholic,  and  Maronite  Churches  also  have  important 
establishments  here.  Perhaps  it  is  largely  due  to  the 
example  of  foreigners  that  the  homes  of  the  natives 
are  many  of  them  well-built  and  clean ;  so  that,  on 
the  whole,  Nazareth  appears  to  be  the  most  solidly 
constructed  and  prosperous  city  in  the  country. 

Of  course,  all  sorts  of  events  in  the  life  of  the  Holy 
Family  have  been  exactly  localized,  and  commemo¬ 
rated  by  sacred  buildings.  In  some  cases  the  oppo¬ 
sing  sects  each  have  their  own  rival  sites.  Thus,  the 
Greek  and  Latin  Churches  of  the  Annunciation  are 
at  exactly  opposite  ends  of  the  town ;  as  far  apart  as 
the  two  communions  are  in  mutual  appreciation  and 
sympathy.  The  “Workshop  of  Joseph”  is  within  the 
Franciscan  Monastery.  The  synagogue  in  which 
Christ  is  said  to  have  taught  is  now  made  over  into 
a  Greek  Catholic  Church.  The  “Table  of  Christ,” 
on  which  He  and  His  disciples  dined,  is  a  block  of 
stone  twelve  feet  long,  which  is  treasured  by  the 
Latins. 


[176] 


THE  RING  OF  THE  GENTILES 


The  most  venerable  and  respectable  traditions  of 
Nazareth  cluster  around  the  Latin  Church  of  the 
Annunciation.  Under  the  center  of  the  high  altar 
a  flight  of  marble  steps  descends  to  a  series  of  caves 
like  those  in  Bethlehem,  only  rather  smaller.  The 
first  of  these  is  the  Angel’s  Chapel,  with  an  altar  to 
Gabriel.  Directly  back  of  this  is  the  Chapel  of  the 
Annunciation,  with  the  inscription  in  Latin,  “Here 
the  Word  was  made  flesh.”  A  column  marks  the  place 
where  Gabriel  addressed  Mary,  and  another  column, 
which  is  broken  off*  at  the  base  and  held  only  by  the 
joint  at  the  ceiling,  is  “miraculously”  supported  over 
the  spot  where  the  Virgin  stood.  The  third  cave, 
originally  part  of  the  second,  from  which  it  is  sepa¬ 
rated  now  by  an  artificial  wall,  is  dedicated  to  Joseph. 
From  this,  a  narrow,  curving  flight  of  steps  leads  to 
a  cistern  called  the  “Kitchen  of  the  Virgin.”  The 
mouth  of  the  cistern  is  pointed  out  as  the  chimney 
of  the  kitchen.  After  you  have  wandered  about 
through  ecclesiastical  Palestine  for  a  while,  you 
wonder  whether  the  ancient  Hebrew  inhabitants  spent 
all  their  time  underground. 

Over  these  caves  stood  the  house  of  the  Virgin ; 
but  on  May  10,  1291,  it  was  in  such  danger  of  dese¬ 
cration  by  the  approaching  Moslem  army  that  angels 
lifted  it  bodily  and  carried  it  over  the  sea  to  Tersatto, 
on  the  heights  above  Fiume.  Three  years  later  it  was 
again  miraculously  lifted  up,  transported  across  the 
Adriatic,  and  set  down  in  a  laurel  grove  on  the  Italian 


12 


[177] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


coast.  There,  in  the  famous  pilgrimage  town  of 
Loreta,  beneath  the  dome  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
House,  can  be  seen  to  this  day  the  Casa  Santa ,  a 
small,  one-story  stone  structure,  which  is  surely  the 
most  traveled  building  in  the  world.  The  truth  of 
the  story  of  its  wonderful  joumeyings  was  officially 
confirmed  by  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  during  the 
pontificate  of  Pope  Paul  II. 

Nazareth  has  only  one  source  of  water  supply, 
outside  of  the  cisterns  which  store  the  winter  rains. 
In  the  northern  edge  of  the  hollow  in  which  the  city 
lies,  is  a  small  spring,  the  water  of  which  is  piped  a 
few  hundred  feet  to  a  public  fountain.  This  is  now 
known  as  ‘Ain  Sitti  Miryam  or  “the  Spring  of  the 
Lady  Mary”;  and  indeed  it  is  practically  certain 
that  the  mother  of  Jesus  must  have  come  often  to 
this  one  fountain  which  her  native  town  possessed, 
and  carried  home  the  water  for  household  purposes 
in  a  great  earthern  jar  balanced  on  her  head,  just  as 
we  see  the  young  women  of  Nazareth  doing  to-day. 

It  is  about  four  hours  steady  riding  from  Naza¬ 
reth  to  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  One  route  takes  you  over 
the  hill  back  of  the  town,  to  the  little  village  of  Cana, 
only  thirty  or  forty  minutes’  walk  for  Jesus  and 
His  mother  when  they  went  thither  for  the  wedding 
feast. 

From  Cana  on,  there  is  little  of  special  interest 
until  we  come  out  on  the  edge  of  the  broad,  billowy, 


[178] 


A  street  in  Cana 


The  Horns  of  Hattin 


THE  RING  OF  THE  GENTILES 


treeless  moor  which  drops  eastward  in  long,  soft 
curves  toward  the  basin  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  Some 
wheat  fields  are  here;  but  a  large  part  of  the  table¬ 
land  is  rich  grazing  ground.  Flowers  are  abundant, 
of  course.  So  is  animal  life.  Birds  fly  overhead 
or  twitter  in  the  long  grass.  Camels  are  feeding 
by  the  hundred,  just  as  cattle  do  on  the  plains  at 
home.  Small  Wild  animals  scurry  away  when  they 
hear  our  horses  coming.  A  graceful  little  gazelle 
gives  us  one  frightened  glance,  and  then  streaks 
across  the  moor  like  a  flash  of  animated  lightning. 
But  a  brown  fox  strolls  up  casually  to  within  fifty 
yards  of  us,  and  then  calmly  sits  down  to  inspect  the 
strangers,  just  as  though  some  one  had  told  him  that 
we  had  no  guns. 

Above  the  rolling  tableland  rises  a  saddle-shaped 
hill,  whose  two  curious  humps  are  known  as  the 
“Horns  of  Hattin.”  The  high,  grassy  hollow  between 
them  has  long  been  considered  the  place  where  the 
multitudes  sat  while  Christ  preached  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount. 

“A  city  set  on  a  hill  cannot  be  hid.”  There  it  is ! 
The  Master  must  have  pointed  toward  it  as  He  spoke 
the  words ;  for  lofty  Safed,  twelve  miles  to  the  north 
of  Hattin,  is  the  highest  town  in  Galilee,  and  it 
glistens  in  the  sunlight  like  a  piece  of  white  marble 
lying  upon  the  brown  mountainside. 

Safed  is  now  considered  by  the  Jews  to  be  one  of 
the  four  sacred  cities  of  the  world  (see  page  52)  ; 


[179] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


and  it  is  believed  that  this  is  to  be  the  birthplace  of 
the  Messiah.  It  contains  more  Jews  than  any  other 
place  in  Palestine  except  Jerusalem.  They  make  up 
more  than  half  of  its  population  of  25,000,  and  are 
noted  for  their  orthodoxy,  conceit  and  shiftlessness. 
They  conform  to  all  the  demands  of  the  Law,  Mosaic 
and  post-Mosaic.  They  will  not  even  wind  their 
watches  on  the  Sabbath  or  write  a  letter  of  the  alpha¬ 
bet,  and  they  spend  much  of  their  time  in  furious  and 
fanatical  discussions  over  trilling  details  of  form  and 
practice,  as  did  the  Pharisees  of  old.  There  is  no 
wall  around  Safed;  so  in  order  to  put  into  force  the 
Hebrew  laws  concerning  walled  towms,  these  zealous 
legalists  once  erected  poles  at  the  ends  of  all  the 
streets  and  strung  wires  between  them,  to  serve  as 
a  substitute  for  a  wall. 

These  Jews  of  Safed  are,  like  all  others  in  Pales¬ 
tine,  European  Jews.  They  are  largely  supported 
by  their  co-religionists  in  the  West,  and  in  return 
perform  the  rites  of  the  faith  as  vicarious  substitutes 
for  rich  Jews  in  the  great  capitals,  who  are  too 
busy  to  attend  personally  to  the  rigid  requirements 
of  the  Talmudic  laws.  One  young  Safed  Jew  paid 
his  way  through  college  by  serving  as  a  scapegoat 
for  a  number  of  his  friends  who  wanted  to  be  clear  of 
guilt  for  the  Day  of  Atonement,  and  who  therefore 
cast  all  their  sins  upon  him,  at  a  medjedie  (dollar) 
a  head.  After  a  somewhat  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  young  man,  I  should  say  that  he  really 


[180] 


THE  RING  OF  THE  GENTILES 


did  possess  the  iniquity  of  at  least  fifty  ordinary 
sinners. 

On  the  high,  rolling  plain  to  the  east  and  south 
of  Hattin  there  took  place,  on  July  5,  1187,  one  of 
the  decisive  battles  of  the  world,  which  practically 
settled  the  outcome  of  the  Crusades  and  determined 
whether  Christians  or  Moslems  should  rule  the  Holy 
Land. 

On  one  side  was  the  flower  of  European  chivalry, 
who  bore  among  them  as  a  talisman  a  fragment 
of  the  True  Cross.  But  the  flower  was  faded,  and 
the  Cross  dishonored  by  cruelty  and  treachery  and 
lust.  The  nominal  ruler  of  the  Latin  Kingdom  of 
Jerusalem,  Guy  of  Lusignan,  was  a  weak,  vacillating 
puppet,  who  was  always  ready  to  follow  the  counsel 
of  his  latest  adviser.  The  noble  vows  of  the  Knights 
of  the  Hospital  and  the  Temple  had  long  since  been 
trampled  in  the  dust  of  their  selfish  ambition.  The 
Crusading  princes  were  enervated  by  the  climate, 
envious  and  suspicious  of  one  another,  and  smitten  by 
the  guilty  knowledge  that  they  had  wantonly  broken 
truce  with  the  foe  now  marching  upon  them.  The 
men-at-arms  were  dizzy  with  the  summer  heat, 
parched  with  thirst,  itching  and  burning  from  the 
smoke  of  the  smudge  fires  which  the  enemy  had 
kindled  around  them. 

Against  these  weakened,  disheartened,  disunited 
and  unfaithful  soldiers  of  the  Cross  came  the  myriads 

[181] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


of  lean,  sunburned  Saracens,  hardened  to  the  climate, 
familiar  with  the  country,  centuries  in  advance  of 
Europe  in  their  knowledge  of  the  importance  of 
advancing  to  battle  in  open  order,  on  fire  with  the 
zeal  of  a  Holy  War  against  the  “Infidel”  invaders, 
smarting  with  anger  at  the  Christians’  impudent  dis¬ 
regard  of  treaty  promises,  and  led  by  one  of  the 
greatest  generals  of  all  time,  the  gallant  Kurd, 
Saladin. 

Foolish,  wearying  rushes  when  the  Crusaders 
should  have  stood  on  the  defensive — panic-stricken 
inactivity  when  there  should  have  been  a  bold  attack 
— fickle  changes  from  one  half-tried  stratagem  to 
another — shameful  cries  of  “ sauve  qui  pent,”  as 
princes  boldest  at  the  council  table  fled  first  from 
the  Saracen  attack — magnificent,  useless  courage  of 
many  a  true  knight  who  fell  facing  the  enemy  with 
the  corpses  of  his  men-at-arms  piled  high  around  him 
— brave,  stubborn  struggles  by  regiments  of 
exhausted  foot-soldiers  who  were  dying  of  thirst  and 
heat  before  ever  the  enemy’s  arrows  pierced  their 
panting  bosoms — and  then,  on  the  upper  slopes  of 
the  very  Mount  where  He  whose  name  they  bore  said 
“Love  your  enemies,”  the  last  battle-standard  of  the 
Crusaders  was  dragged  down ;  the  last  little  company 
of  Christian  knights  driven  over  the  precipice,  or 
spared  for  future  massacre  or  Saracen  slavery. 

Saladin  was  now  practically  master  of  all  Pales¬ 
tine.  Jerusalem  itself  fell  three  months  afterwards. 


[182] 


THE  RING  OF  THE  GENTILES 


Later  Crusades,  which  started  from  Europe  with 
impressive  pomp  and  high  hopes,  never  seriously 
threatened  the  Moslem  rule  over  the  Holy  Land. 
The  fate  of  Palestine  for  all  the  succeeding  centuries 
was  settled  on  that  burning  July  day  when  the 
Crusading  armies  were  swept  down  to  tragic,  shame¬ 
ful  defeat  on  the  plains  of  Hattin. 


[183] 


XVIII 


The  lake  of  god’s  delight 

TWICE  I  have  approached  the  Sea  of  Galilee  just 
at  sunset.  In  front  of  us  the  green  fields 
sloped  down  to  the  blue  lake.  The  cliffs  on  the 
other  side,  though  eight  miles  away,  were  distinctly 
mirrored  on  the  calm  surface  of  the  water.  Tiberias 
on  the  shore  below  us  and  Safed  on  the  mountain  far 
above  were  all  a  glittering  white,  but  less  white  than 
great  Hermon,  whose  snow-clad  summit  rose,  unchal¬ 
lenged  in  its  grandeur,  high  above  the  red  clouds  that 
floated  over  the  marshes  of  Merom. 

I  think  that  the  old  rabbis  must  have  had  in  mind 
some  such  view  as  that  when  they  taught  that,  of  all 
the  seas  which  God  has  created,  this  one  is  His 
special  delight. 

But  the  only  beauty  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  which 
remains  is  that  of  the  water  and  sky  and  mountains. 
The  glory  of  the  rich  and  splendid  Greco-Roman 
cities,  which  in  the  time  of  Christ  stretched  in  a  daz¬ 
zling  circle  around  the  shores  of  the  sea,  has  gone 
forever.  The  very  location  of  proud  Capernaum  is  a 
subject  of  scholarly  disputation.  Save  for  a  few 
tiny,  poverty-stricken  hamlets  here  and  there,  the 

[184] 


The  City  of  Tiberias 


THE  LAKE  OF  GOD’S  DELIGHT 


only  inhabited  place  is  the  city  of  Tiberias,  built  long 
ago  by  a  cruel  tyrant  on  an  accursed  spot  above  an 
ancient  graveyard^and  so  shunned  by  pious  Hebrews 
and,  for  all  its  importance,  never  once  mentioned  in 
the  New  Testament.  Yet  to-day — such  is  the  irony 
of  history — this  is  counted  one  of  the  four  sacred 
Hebrew  cities,  and  is  inhabited  almost  entirely  by 
Jewish  immigrants  from  Europe,  who  drag  out  a 
miserable  existence  by  the  aid  of  the  alms  sent  by 
their  co-religionists  abroad,  and  study  the  Talmud 
diligently  and,  like  the  Jews  of  Safed,  are  very  punc¬ 
tilious  about  observing  all  the  requirements  of  the 
Law,  and  every  autumn  shake  with  chills  and  fever, 
and  die  like  rats  when  the  pest  comes.  I  had  hardly 
left  Tiberias  when,  in  this  town  of  barely  5,000  peo¬ 
ple,  the  death  rate  from  Asiatic  cholera  rose  to  a 
hundred  a  day. 

But  as  soon  as  you  get  out  of  sight  of  Tiberias, 
the  beauty  of  the  deep  blue  water  and  pebbly  shores 
and  soft,  distant  mountains  and  the  strong,  comfort' 
ing  vision  of  majestic  Hermon  again  grip  your  soul. 
You  can  readily  imagine  that  not  mere  glistening 
stones  and  sand  but  marble  palaces  shine  yonder 
across  the  lake ;  and  in  some  quiet,  grassy  cove  beside 
the  gently  lapping  wavelets  you  can  picture  the  mul¬ 
titudes  sitting  while  they  listen  to  the  simple,  won¬ 
drous  words  of  Him  who  told  them  stories  of  their 
everyday  fishing  or  farming  life — stories  with  a 
meaning  as  deep  as  the  waters  of  Galilee,  as  fresh  as 

[185] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


the  mountain  breezes  and  as  instinct  with  lofty  hope¬ 
fulness  as  yonder  cone  of  Hermon  rising  upward  to 
the  clouds  of  heaven.  x 

The  Sea  of  Galilee,  however,  is  not  always  calm. 
The  mountains  immediately  adjoining  it  are  2,000 
feet  high,  and  through  their  deep  gorges  the  storm 
winds  are  sucked  into  the  hollow  of  the  lake,  so  that 
sudden  squalls  come  literally  out  of  a  blue  sky.  One 
charming  spring  morning  we  started  out  to  sail  from 
Tiberias  to  the  traditional  site  of  Capernaum.  There 
was  not  a  ripple  on  the  water  or  a  cloud  in  the  heav¬ 
ens.  But  when  we  were  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
shore,  our  boatmen  noticed  a  band  of  rough  water 
rushing  toward  us  from  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  In 
spite  of  our  remonstrances,  they  immediately  gave  up 
the  plan  for  making  Capernaum,  took  down  the  sail 
with  such  frantic  haste  that  they  nearly  upset  the 
boat,  and  then  rowed  for  the  land  with  all  their  might 
and  with  excited  urgings  to  one  another.  We  thought 
them  a  very  cowardly  crew.  But  hardly  had  the  boat 
been  beached  in  a  sheltered  cove,  when  the  wind  was 
howling  down  on  us  from  the  mountains,  and  the 
heavy  breakers  were  foaming  along  the  shore  and  as 
far  out  into  the  lake  as  we  could  see. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  the  Sea  of  Galilee  was 
again  as  level  as  a  mirror,  and  only  a  soft,  warm 
breeze  was  blowing  over  the  smiling  waters. 

Like  all  mountain  lakes,  this  one  is  very  deep. 
Reported  soundings  go  all  the  way  from  two  hundred 


[186] 


THE  LAKE  OF  GOD’S  DELIGHT 


feet  to  a  very  suspicious  seven  hundred  feet.  Its 
water  is  clear  and  fresh,  and  abounds  in  fish,  some 
varieties  of  which  are  found  nowhere  else  outside  of 
the  tropics.  The  rabbis  believed  that  the  local  fish¬ 
ing  regulations  went  back  to  the  days  of  Joshua.  In 
Roman  days  the  pickled  fish  of  Galilee  were  sold  all 
over  the  Empire,  and  were  highly  esteemed  for  their 
delicious  flavor.  There  are  now  few  craft  on  the  lake, 
perhaps  a  dozen  in  all;  but  still  at  eventide  you  can 
see  the  fishermen  coming  home  with  their  boats  loaded 
almost  to  the  gunwales,  and  still  the  sons  of  Zebedee 
mend  their  great  nets  which  are  spread  out  to  dry  on 
the  pebbly  beach. 


[187] 


XIX 


THE  GLORY  OF  ALL  LANDS 

WE  have  lost  the  steamer  by  a  few  short  hours ; 

but  ma  besail,  “never  mind !”  We  have  both 
missed  important  engagements ;  but  ma 
besail!  My  traveling  companion  is  lying  helpless  at 
the  inn,  with  a  cold  compress  on  his  throbbing  fore¬ 
head  ;  but  ma  besail!  Who  cares  ?  Not  he ;  for  every 
few  minutes  a  pretty  little  waitress  tiptoes  into  the 
darkened  room  with  something  more  cooling  than  the 
last :  not  I ;  for  after  the  long  ride,  with  poor  food, 
poor  beds  and  poor  mounts,  it  is  the  acme  of  delight 
to  lie  at  full  length  on  the  warm  slope  of  Carmel  and 
brood  idly  over  the  long  sweep  of  the  Bay  of  Acre. 
It  is  very  warm  and  very  still  up  here  on  the  brow 
of  the  mountain.  On  the  whole  vault  of  the  glaring 
sky  there  is  not  a  cloud  the  size  of  a  man’s  hand,  and 
the  blazing  sun  beats  down  upon  my  pith  helmet  with 
an  enervating  heat  that  leads  to  drowsy  day-dreams 
and  lazy  content. 

The  landscape  is  wrapped  in  a  decorous  calm,  like 
that  of  a  Sabbath  afternoon.  The  soughing  of  the 
sea  breeze  rises  and  falls  with  a  soothing  melody,  into 
which  the  twittering  of  the  sparrows  breaks  with 

[188] 


Haifa  and  the  Bay  of  Acre,  from  Mount  Carmel 


Copyright  by  Underwood  &  Underwood,  N.  Y 


View  from  the  Horns  of  Hattin 


THE  GLORY  OF  ALL  LANDS 


irreverent  distinctness.  From  far  below  there  comes 
the  sound  of  the  muffled  lapping  of  the  waves,  and  now 
and  then  the  faint  crowing  of  a  distant  cock.  A  few 
tiny  sailing  vessels  rock  slowly  to  and  fro  in  the  little 
harbor  of  Haifa ;  and  then  the  sand  sweeps  around  in 
a  dazzling  arc,  past  the  ruined  walls  of  Acre  to  the 
steep  headland  of  the  “Ladder  of  Tyre.”  Back  of 
the  beach,  the  blue  Kishon  winds  lazily  through  the 
green  orchards  and  wheat  fields.  Farther  inland,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon,  are  the 
rounded  summits  of  Gilboa  and  Little  Hermon;  and 
through  the  haze  are  dimly  seen  the  mysterious  moun¬ 
tains  beyond  the  Jordan.  I  cannot  make  out  Mount 
Tabor  to-day,  and  Nazareth  lies  hidden  in  a  little 
hollow;  but  the  summit  of  the  hill  just  back  of  the 
city  is  in  clear  view,  and  beyond  it  the  heights  of 
Galilee  lead  up  to  the  mountain  peaks  of  Lebanon. 

This  is  indeed  a  goodly  land,  even  when  viewed 
apart  from  its  historic  and  religious  associations.  To 
the  ancient  prophets  it  may  well  have  seemed  the  land 
“which  is  the  glory  of  all  lands.”  I  did  not  think  so 
at  first :  many  foreigners  never  think  so  at  all.  The 
short,  hurried  trip  of  the  spring  tourist,  full  of 
excitement  and  fatigue,  as  well  as  unpleasant  experi¬ 
ences  with  dirt  and  dragomans,  heat  and  hotels,  leaves 
little  time  or  inclination  to  dwell  upon  the  beauties 
of  nature.  Few  travelers  penetrate  into  the  moun¬ 
tain  regions  of  northern  Lebanon,  and  those  who 
visit  Judea  and  Galilee  do  not  come  with  the  same 


[189] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


purpose  that  prompts  a  sojourn  in  Switzerland  or 
the  Engadine ;  for  it  is  the  memory  of  the  great  men 
who  have  lived  here  and  the  Master  who  died  here 
that  gives  to  the  country  a  solemn  beauty  which  is 
richer  than  that  of  mountain  or  river  or  forest. 

Then  it  is  true  that  Palestine  is  very  different  from 
America,  especially  from  the  northern  and  eastern 
parts  of  America ;  and  it  is  this  strangeness  which 
most  impresses  one  at  the  beginning  of  a  residence 
here.  There  are  very  few  brooks.  As  has  been  said, 
most  of  the  streams  are  mere  wadis  which  flow  only 
during  the  rainy  season.  The  largest  rivers  are  the 
Leontes  and  Jordan;  and  neither  of  these  is  navi¬ 
gable,  even  for  small  fishing-smacks.  There  is  no  turf 
in  Palestine,  and  no  lawns,  and  the  American  traveler 
misses  the  forests  and  orchards  and  shade-trees  of 
his  own  land.  What  few  trees  there  are  seem  stunted 
and  faded,  and  the  mountains  look  very  bare  to  one 
who  has  just  come  from  a  land  of  rolling  pastures 
and  wooded  hillsides.  When  I  used  to  get  so  home¬ 
sick  during  those  first  months  in  Syria,  it  was,  always 
for  some  particular  sheet  of  wrater  or  patch  of  green ; 
the  little  mill-pond  near  my  home,  or  the  woods  out 
at  the  farm,  or  a  shady  piece  along  the  country  road. 

After  the  first  year,  however,  the  strangeness  began 
to  wear  off,  and  I  became  reconciled  to  the  fact  that 
this  land  is  not  at  all  like  America,  and  was  never 
intended  to  be.  Then  I  began  to  love  the  new  home 
for  its  own  sake.  When  I  came  here,  I  thought  that 


[190] 


THE  GLORY  OF  ALL  LANDS 


this  was  the  most  desolate  country  I  had  ever  seen ; 
now  it  seems  full  of  fertility.  Where  the  great  moun¬ 
tainsides  looked  bare  and  white  and  glaring,  there  are 
now  marvelous  depths  of  color ;  while  the  once  dull, 
dry,  dusty  fields  are  all  bespangled  with  gorgeous 
flowers.  It  is  not  the  landscape  that  has  changed, 
but  myself.  When  I  came  here,  I  looked  everywhere 
for  things  American,  and  was  disappointed  because 
I  did  not  find  them;  now  I  look  for  things  Syrian, 
and  new  beauties  reveal  themselves  every  hour. 

From  beginning  to  end  it  is  a  land  of  contradic¬ 
tions  ;  bare  and  brilliant,  arid  and  fertile ;  with  a 
burning  sun  which  beats  upon  cool,  comfortable 
houses ;  with  impudent  children  who  reverence  gray 
hairs ;  with  bloodthirsty  bandits  who  would  die  in 
defense  of  an  unknown  guest ;  with  unscrupulous 
sharpers  and  unselfish  hospitality ;  with  a  glib,  formal 
politeness  which  often  covers  a  warm  heart;  where 
the  women  wear  trousers  and  the  men  wear  skirts ; 
where  the  epidemics  of  cholera  and  plague  cannot  per¬ 
manently  destroy  the  healthfulness  of  the  mountain 
breezes ;  where  there  is  never  a  grass  plot,  though  the 
fields  and  hillsides  are  covered  with  bright  blossoms. 

Even  under  present  conditions,  the  soil  is  fertile; 
and  it  could  be  made  to  bear  still  more  generous  har¬ 
vests  under  a  government  which  would  insure  the 
tranquillity  and  justice  which  are  necessary  before 
foreign  capital  will  be  invested  in  schemes  for 
irrigation,  improvement  of  roads  and  the  introduction 


[191] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


of  modern  agricultural  machinery.  The  exports  are 
now  practically  all  products  of  the  soil.  Beirut 
ships  about  two  million  pounds  of  tobacco  every  year. 
The  mulberry  tree  flourishes,  and  six  hundred  thou¬ 
sand  pounds  of  raw  silk  are  annually  exported  to 
Marseilles.  There  are  large  wheat  fields  on  the  plains 
of  Esdraelon,  Coele-Syria  and  Hamath.  The  Plain 
of  Sharon,  besides  being  still  celebrated  for  its  flowers 
and  fruits,  yields  a  splendid  return  of  wheat  and 
barley ;  and  east  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  the  plain  of 
the  Hauran,  which  is  the  great  natural  granary 
of  western  Asia,  gives  even  a  larger  harvest,  although 
the  farming  is  of  the  most  primitive  character.  The 
oranges  of  Jaffa,  Sidon  and  Tripoli  are  famous 
throughout  Europe.  The  olive  forest  of  Beirut  is 
said  to  be  the  second  largest  in  the  world.  Shechem 
has  no  fewer  than  twenty-two  perennial  springs.  The 
road  to  Damascus  winds  through  mile  after  mile  of 
luxuriant  orchards  and  vineyards,  which  are  fed  by 
the  rushing  waters  of  Abana  and  Pharpar.  Even  the 
“desert”  affords  a  fair  pasturage  after  the  early 
rains.  And  hidden  up  in  the  mountain  regions  is 
many  a  valley  like  a  fairy  garden,  with  countless 
waterfalls  ringing  into  the  little  brook  beneath,  and 
the  terraces  of  the  steep  hillsides  all  crowded  with 
vineyards  and  orchards  of  olive,  fig  and  mulberry.  If 
we  include  Hermon  and  Lebanon,  there  is  no  other  dis¬ 
trict  of  like  size  in  the  world  which  produces  such  a 
variety  of  food  products  as  does  the  Holy  Land. 

[192] 


t 

THE  GLORY  OF  ALL  LANDS 


There  may  be  no  turf,  but  there  is  an  amazing 
wealth  of  flowers.  Last  week,  as  we  rode  between  the 
fields  of  wheat,  already  higher  than  our  stirrups,  the 
broad  caravan  trail  was  almost  hidden  under  a  carpet 
of  bloom.  Several  times  between  Mount  Tabor  and 
the  Sea  of  Galilee  we  actually  wandered  off  from  the 
road,  because  the  grain  and  flowers  had  spread  quite 
across  it  from  field  to  field.  Probably  the  Palestinian 
farmer  calls  these  flowers  “weeds”;  but  some  of  them 
were  such  weeds  as  would  be  welcomed  into  any 
American  conservatory.  The  most  striking  were  the 
garish  scarlet  poppies,  whose  blossoms  were  full  four 
inches  in  diameter ;  but  the  red  and  white  anemones 
were  almost  as  large  and  showy.  Then  there  were 
orchids  of  every  conceivable  shape  and  size  and  color, 
besides  the  high  hollyhock,  the  delicate  cyclamen,  the 
stalwart  thistle  just  bursting  into  bloom,  the  more 
modest  daisy  and  buttercup  and  dandelion,  and  a 
little  blue  flower  enough  like  the  forget-me-not  to 
bring  up  memories  of  home.  There  was  many  a 
square  yard  within  which  we  could  have  counted  a 
score  of  colors,  and  twice  as  many  varieties  of  wild 
flowers.  One  does  not  need  to  be  an  artist  or  a 
botanist  to  appreciate  the  splendor  of  such  an  array : 
red,  pink,  yellow,  blue,  white,  purple,  scarlet,  green, 
lavender — all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow  crowded 
together  with  the  supreme  disregard  of  color-harmony 
which  is  successful  only  in  Nature’s  studio. 

And  the  flowers  are  not  confined  to  the  fertile  low- 


11 


[193] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


lands.  I  have  ridden  down  many  a  valley  of  Lebanon 
whose  terraced  sides  seemed  like  the  tables  of  a  hot¬ 
house,  which  raised  their  delicate  blossoms  just  high 
enough  so  that  now  and  then  we  could  lean  from  the 
saddle  and  pluck  the  cluster  which  most  struck  our 
fancy.  The  campus  of  the  American  College  at 
Beirut  is  laid  out  upon  a  rocky  bluff  near  the  head  of 
the  cape,  where  the  soil  does  not  appear  to  be 
especially  productive ;  yet  there  are  over  two  hundred 
varieties  of  wild  flowers  growing  within  the  college 
enclosure.  Even  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Hermon, 
among  the  snow  which  lasts  well  into  the  summer, 
many  a  warm  slope  is  covered  with  flowers  so  large 
and  showy  that  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  no  florist  has 
tended  them  except  the  Syrian  sun. 

Then  the  gardens  are  almost  as  beautiful  as  the 
fields  of  wild  flowers.  These  gardens  are  always  hid¬ 
den  from  public  view ;  for  the  Oriental  does  not  like 
to  take  his  pleasures  where  all  the  world  can  watch 
him.  Along  the  dusty  roads  there  front  only  high 
walls,  with  broken  bottles  spread  inhospitably  along 
the  top,  where  a  myriad  lizards  lazily  sun  themselves, 
or  scurry  away  into  their  crevices  at  the  sight  of  the 
wear}^  traveler.  But  behind  these  same  walls  there  are 
fragrant  blossoms  and  spreading  trees,  with  clean 
pebble  walks  and  comfortable  benches,  where  one  can 
spend  the  heat  of  the  day  under  the  cool  of  green 
bowers  beside  the  central  fountain,  sleeping  or  read¬ 
ing  or  listening  to  the  bulbul  singing  in  the  branches 

[194] 


The  ground  beneath  the  olive  trees  is  usually  covered  with  a  gay 

carpet  of  flowers 


THE  GLORY  OF  ALL  LANDS 


of  the  sycamore.  Once  or  twice  I  have  even  seen 
a  little  piece  of  English  lawn.  Last  winter  a  friend 
of  mine  gave  away  fifteen  bushels  of  chrysan¬ 
themums,  in  order  to  clear  out  the  tangle  in  her 
garden.  Roses  can  be  made  to  bloom  twelve  months 
in  the  year.  I  know  of  a  garden — a  very  small  one — 
where  there  are  seventeen  varieties  of  roses,  and 
another  where  there  are  twenty-five.  All  of  them  are 
now  in  blossom,  in  April,  and  the  largest  bush  has 
climbed  twenty  feet  up  a  neighboring  cypress  tree, 
from  which  its  thousands  of  flowers  hang  over  the 
garden  path  in  long,  graceful  festoons  of  pink. 

The  trees  are  usually  smaller  than  those  of  Amer¬ 
ica,  but  they  are  not  without  a  beauty  of  their  own. 
As  you  ride  down  from  the  neighboring  hills,  the  olive 
orchards  of  Sidon  can  be  seen  long  before  the  city  is 
reached;  and  few  occupations  are  quite  so  satisfac¬ 
tory  as  lying  in  one  of  these  same  orchards  and  eating 
the  golden  fruit  plucked  from  the  low-lying  branches. 
Near  the  Tell  el-Kassis,  where  Elijah  is  said  to  have 
slain  the  prophets  of  Baal,  we  passed  a  small  oak 
forest  whose  glades  were  as  spruce  and  clean  as  a 
carefully  tended  city  park  at  home.  Pine  trees  are 
often  found  on  the  hillsides ;  and  up  on  highest 
Lebanon  are  still  preserved  a  few  groves  of  cedars ; 
great  hoary  giants,  hundreds  of  years  old,  beautiful 
both  in  themselves  and  for  the  memories  which  they 
suggest. 

This  is  the  native  land  of  the  olive,  and  the  olive 

[195] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


tree  has  always  been  a  symbol  of  fertility  and  pros¬ 
perity.  At  first  I  did  not  like  these  trees.  They 
seemed  small  and  pale;  but  chiefly  I  criticised  them 
because  they  were  not  apple  trees,  which  was  illog¬ 
ical  and  unjust.  Once  granted  that  an  olive  can 
never  be  an  apple,  even  an  American  comes  to  waver 
in  his  allegiance  to  the  orchards  at  home.  The  Syrian 
tree  has  a  singular  fascination.  There  may  be  young 
olive  trees,  but  they  never  look  young.  The  trunks 
are  always  knotted  and  gnarled,  or  twisted  into  fan¬ 
tastic  shapes  like  the  forms  of  writhing  imprisoned 
goblins.  Often  there  is  a  great  hollow  in  the  center 
of  the  trunk,  which  is  filled  with  stones  to  give  the 
necessary  stability.  These  twisted,  weather-beaten 
trees,  leaning  on  their  stone  supports,  are  strangely 
redolent  of  age  and  dignity,  of  grandfathers  and 
ruined  grandeur.  Yet  the  ground  beneath  is  usually 
covered  with  a  gay  carpet  of  flowers.  Near  the  city 
of  Samaria  we  passed  an  orchard  whose  scarred  old 
trunks  bore  up  their  delicate  foliage  over  a  velvety 
field  of  wheat.  The  contrast  of  the  greens  of  the 
grain  and  trunks  and  leaves  was  very  beautiful;  so 
was  the  contrast  between  age  and  newness.  It  was 
all  clean  and  prosperous,  yet  sedate  and  dignified,  like 
the  ruined  towers  which  rise  above  the  neat  lawns  of 
Kenilworth. 

The  olive  color  seen  in  masses  has  a  strangely  weird 
quality.  It  always  reminds  me  of  the  moonlight ;  and 
an  olive  orchard  really  seen  in  the  moonlight  is 

[196] 


THE  GLORY  OF  ALL  LANDS 


uncanny.  You  look  down  the  long,  even  glades 
between  the  rows  of  trees,  and  fantastic  sprites  are 
formed  from  the  distant  trunks.  The  tiny  leaves  are 
lost  in  the  great  feathery  mass  above ;  the  brilliant 
light  throws  moving  shadows  on  the  grass  beneath; 
and  over  it  all  is  that  most  delicate,  most  fascinating 
of  colors,  the  olive  green — suggestive  of  mystery  and 
witchery  and  powers  hidden  from  our  coarser  natures. 

We  have  already  stood  on  many  a  mountain-top 
and  drunk  in  the  mountain  air  and  the  mountain  view. 
Crowning  all  the  rest  is  “the  glory  of  Lebanon,”  sung 
by  the  Psalmist  and  dreamed  of  by  the  prophets  as 
the  great,  peerless  type  of  fertility  and  virility  and 
manly  beauty.  The  Syrians  say  that  Lebanon  bears 
winter  on  its  head,  spring  on  its  shoulders,  summer  on 
its  bosom,  while  autumn  lies  slumbering  at  its  feet. 
This  is  not  the  place  to  tell  of  the  wonders  of  the 
northern  mountain  range:  like  the  poet-preachers  of 
Israel,  we  can  only  think  of  it  as  something  far-off 
and  ideal  in  its  inimitable  splendor.  But  if  I  had  the 
time,  I  should  like  to  sing  of  the  mountains  I  know 
and  love  so  well.  I  should  tell  of  their  deep,  rocky 
gorges  and  warm,  green  valleys,  the  sheep  and  goats 
upon  their  sheltered  alpine  pastures,  their  sturdy 
inhabitants,  their  thousands  of  cold,  pure  springs, 
their  musical  waterfalls  and  natural  bridges  and 
unexplored  caverns,  their  great  Crusading  castles 
and  massive  ruined  temples,  their  delicious  fruits, 
the  cool  pine  groves  found  here  and  there  on  their 

[197] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


upper  slopes,  the  snow  banks  that  never  melt  during 
the  hottest  summers,  and  the  noble  prospects  from 
the  highest  summits. 

Th  crowning  glory  of  a  Palestinian  landscape, 
however,  is  just  its  brilliant  coloring.  Before  I  left 
America,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  vivid  tints  of 
Tissot’s  paintings  must  surely  be  exaggerated;  but 
they  fall  short  of  the  reality.  Of  course  no  artist 
could  hope  to  reproduce  the  marvelous  warmth  and 
depth  of  the  landscape,  or  to  imitate  the  vague,  soft 
hues  which  are  so  characteristic  of  the  Palestinian 
atmosphere ;  but  it  would  be  almost  as  impossible  to 
find  tints  that  were  over-bright,  or  to  arrange  them 
in  a  color  scheme  too  daring  to  be  matched  by  the 
Syrian  sun.  Unfortunately  the  tourist  season,  from 
February  to  April,  is  at  a  time  of  year  when  there 
are  very  apt  to  be  clouds  and  mists,  and  even  occa¬ 
sional  showers.  The  most  beautiful  hues  are  seen 
only  when  the  sky  has  cleared  for  the  dry  season. 
Then  the  long,  clear,  though  not  cloudless  summers 
give  to  the  atmosphere  an  Italian  transparency,  and 
the  morning  and  evening  skies  surpass  any  that  I 
have  ever  seen  in  Italy. 

The  very  nights  are  full  of  color.  The  moonlight 
is  so  brilliant  that  it  is  easy  to  read  a  guide-book; 
and  even  on  a  moonless  night  and  in  the  wilderness, 
far  from  any  city’s  glare,  the  starlight  has  been  so 
bright  that  I  could  see  the  second-hand  of  my  watch, 
and  could  find  quite  a  distinct  shadow  cast  by 

[198] 


The  gardens  are  almost  as  beautiful  as  the  fields  of  wild  flowers 


A  cedar  of  Lebanon 


THE  GLORY  OF  ALL  LANDS 


Jupiter.  A  moonlit  scene  at  home  gives  only  the 
impression  of  light  spots  and  dark  spots :  everything 
is  black  or  white  or  gray.  But  here  the  moonlight 
shows  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  The  green  of 
the  trees  and  grain,  the  red  of  the  tile  roofs,  the  blue 
of  sea  and  sky,  and  the  gray  of  the  distant  moun¬ 
tains  are  softer  and  more  delicate,  but  hardly  less 
distinct  one  from  the  other  than  in  the  sunlight. 

But  the  sunset  colors  are  the  best  of  all,  especially 
where  the  mountains  come  close  to  the  sea.  After 
the  day’s  work  is  done,  we  like  to  sit  on  the  rocks  at 
the  point  of  the  cape  and  wait  for  the  sunset.  It  is 
never  twice  the  same.  Sometimes  there  is  not  a 
cloud  to  be  seen,  and  the  waters  meet  the  firmament 
in  one  vast  sheet  of  dazzling  bronze.  Usually  there 
are  great  cumulous  banks  near  the  horizon ;  but  with 
no  mists  to  dull  the  outlines,  so  that  the  edges  of  the 
clouds  are  as  clear-cut  as  the  canvas  scenery  of  a 
stage.  Often  the  mirage  makes  kaleidoscopic  changes 
in  sea  and  cloud  and  sun.  Now  the  yellow  disk  is 
flattened  like  a  drop  of  molten  metal.  The  next 
moment  it  is  a  regular  hexagon,  which  splits  into  two 
suns,  one  in  the  sea  and  one  in  the  sky ;  or  it  rounds 
into  two  hemispheres,  which  turn  away  from  each 
other,  like  the  halves  of  a  squat  hour-glass  of  gold. 
As  the  sun  sinks  down  between  the  sea  and  sky,  there 
is  no  blurring  or  indistinctness.  The  last  star-like 
gleam  hovers  for  an  instant  upon  the  face  of  the 
waters.  Then  suddenly  it  is  evening,  and  it  is  cool 

[199] 


THE  REAL  PALESTINE  OF  TO-DAY 


down  by  the  shore.  But  out  from  under  the  western 
horizon,  the  dead  sun  sends  up  a  blare  of  fire  which 
sets  the  heavens  ablaze  with  splendor. 

As  we  turn  homeward  from  the  rocky  point,  we  see 
the  final  sunset  glory,  not  in  the  west  but  in  the  east. 
Straight  in  front  of  us  the  mountains  are  bathed  in 
the  evening  light.  The  reddish  tint  on  the  rocky 
slopes  deepens  into  a  richer  alpenglow  as  it  lingers 
for  a  moment  on  the  snow-capped  summit,  so  that  the 
green  of  the  orchards  and  vineyards  below  is  quite 
lost  in  the  warmer  hue  of  the  mountainside.  When 
the  rose  color  has  risen  off  the  highest  peaks,  it  is 
followed  up  by  a  veil  of  pink,  and  that  in  turn  by 
a  Tyrian  purple  which  clothes  every  jagged  summit 
and  rounded  slope  with  a  distanceless,  heightless 
majesty,  and  fills  the  depths  of  the  rocky  wadis  with 
a  fathomless  mystery. 

We  pause  for  a  moment  by  the  little  roadside 
mosque  to  hear  the  muezzin  sing  the  call  to  prayer; 
and  as  the  long-drawn  notes  vibrate  sweetly  into  rest, 
it  seems  as  if  they  too  were  but  a  part  of  the  rich 
color-harmony  of  the  Eastern  evening. 

Where  I  am  writing  these  last  lines,  the  Sabbath 
quiet  of  Mount  Carmel  has  given  place  to  the  nervous 
clamor  of  a  Western  metropolis.  The  whole  city  is 
blatant  of  surplus  energy  and  reeking  with  new-found 
wealth.  Five  lines  of  electric  cars  are  clanging  past 
the  corner  below.  The  sky  is  overcast  with  factory 

[200] 


THE  GLORY  OF  ALL  LANDS 


smoke.  Newsboys  are  hawking  the  latest  “extra,” 
still  damp  from  the  press.  This  is  life  indeed;  earnest, 
virile,  successful  life !  It  is  ambition !  It  is  oppor^ 
tunity!  It  is  progress  ! 

But  a  warm  land  breeze  which  comes  in  through 
the  open  window  puffs  it  all  away;  and  I  feel  the 
desert  sirocco  blowing  hot  under  my  battered  old  pith 
helmet,  as  I  jog  along  the  rocky  paths  of  Palestine, 
or  rest  lazily  under  some  gnarled  olive  tree,  whose 
low-spread  branches  frame  a  picture  of  sunset  seas 
and  purpling  mountain  peaks  that  some  day, 
inshallah ,  I  shall  see  again. 


THE  END 


[201] 


A  MAP  OF  PALESTINE 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE 

B.  C. 

4  Death  of  Herod  the  Great. 

A.  D. 

29  The  Crucifixion. 

70  Destruction  of  Jerusalem  by  Titus. 

100?  Death  of  Josephus,  the  Jewish  historian. 

326  St.  Helena  visits  the  Holy  Land. 

386  St.  Jerome  takes  up  his  residence  in 
Bethlehem. 

527  Accession  of  Justinian  I,  builder  of  El-Aksa. 
616  Jerusalem  captured  by  the  Persian  Chosroes 

II. 

622  Mohammed’s  flight  (Hegira)  from  Mecca; 
the  Moslem  year  one. 

636  The  Moslems  under  Omar  conquer  Palestine. 
693  Completion  of  the  Mosque  of  Omar. 

1099  The  First  Crusade  captures  Jerusalem. 

1187  Saladin  defeats  the  Crusaders  at  Hattin. 

1189  The  Third  Crusade.  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion 
in  Palestine. 

1291  Christian  rule  in  Palestine  finally  overthrown. 
1453  Constantinople  taken  by  Mohammed  II. 

1517  Palestine  made  part  of  the  Turkish  Empire. 
1799  Napoleon  Bonaparte  invades  Galilee. 

1832  Palestine  ceded  to  Egypt. 

1840  Palestine  re-conquered  by  the  Turks. 

1862  Visit  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  Hebron. 

1898  William  II  of  Germany  dedicates  the  German 
Church  in  Jerusalem. 

1909  Overthrow  of  Abdul  Hamid  II  and  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  constitutional  government  in 
Turkey. 


[204] 


THE  BEST  BOOKS  ON  PALESTINE 


George  Adam  Smith’s  Historical  Geography  of  the 
Holy  Land  (London,  1902;  pp.  xxiii  -f-  713)  is 
somewhat  limited  in  its  scope,  as  indicated  by  the 
title,  but  is  nevertheless  the  best  single  book  on  Pales¬ 
tine.  It  has  a  number  of  excellent  maps. 

William  M.  Thompson’s  The  Land  and  the  Booh 
(New  York,  1880;  3  vols.)  is  the  most  exhaustive 
work  on  Bible  manners  and  customs,  as  illustrated  by 
the  life  of  modern  Palestine. 

For  the  general  reader,  these  two  books  are  worth 
more  than  all  others  put  together. 

Baedeker’s  Palestine  and  Syria  (Leipsic,  fre¬ 
quently  revised;  pp.  cxviii  -f -472)  was  compiled  by 
Prof.  Albert  Socin,  a  noted  Orientalist,  and  besides 
very  good  sectional  maps  and  the  usual  matter  of  a 
guide-book,  it  contains  a  long  introduction  dealing 
with  the  history,  religions,  races,  climate,  etc.,  of 
Palestine. 

Edward  Robinson’s  Biblical  Researches  in  Palestine 
(Boston,  1868;  3  vols.)  is  the  most  scholarly  work 
ever  written  on  the  subject,  and  is  still  considered  a 
first-rate  authority  on  most  points,  but  it  is  now  out 
of  print.  The  person  who  can  pick  up  a  set  at  a 
second-hand  book  store  may  consider  himself  for¬ 
tunate. 

Dean  Stanley’s  Sinai  and  Palestine  is  another 
excellent  work  which  is  out  of  print,  but  which  may 
be  found  at  most  libraries. 

The  best  maps  are  those  published  by  the  Palestine 
Exploration  Fund  of  London. 


INDEX 


Roman  numerals  refer  to  chapters,  Arabic  to  pages 


Abraham,  Shrine  of,  27. 

Tomb  of,  61. 

Absalom,  Tomb  of,  113. 

Aby&sinian  monastery,  83. 

Aceldama,  109. 

Acre,  Bay  of,  188. 

Adam,  Grave  of,  52,  82.] 
el-Aksa,  67. 

Altitude  of  cities,  8. 

Anak,  Sons  of,  52. 

Anne,  Tomb  of,  113 
Anointing,  Stone  of,  83 
Annunciation,  Church  of,  177. 
Animal  life,  129,  163,  179. 

Antonia,  Castl<?  of,  120. 

Apples  of  Sodom,  139. 

Arabs,  36. 

Ar-mageddon,  160. 

Ascension,  Church  of,  117. 

Bani&s,  125. 

Beauty  of  Palestine,  XIX. 

Bedouin  life,  36. 

Beer-sheba,  28. 

Beirht,  14,  192,  194. 

Beit  Jala,  24. 

Bethany,  119. 

Bethel,  91. 

Bethlehem,  IV,  97. 

Bethlehemites,  21,  39,  41,  95. 
Boundaries  of  Palestine,  3. 
el-BuraJc,  71. 

Caesarea  Philippi,  126. 

Calvary,  84,  88,  105. 

Cana,  178. 

Capernaum,  184. 

Carmel,  Mount,  6,  157,  189. 

Casa  Santa,  178. 

Caves,  154. 

Center  of  the  earth,  70,  82,  84,  85. 
Christ  and  Moslems,  69,  73,  114. 
Christianity,  Oriental,  33. 

Christmas  Church,  49. 

Church  of  Annunciation,  177. 

Church  of  Ascension,  117. 

Church  of  Creed,  119. 

Church  of  Holy  Sepulchre,  VIII,  IX. 

Church  of  Lord's  Prayer,  119. 


Church  of  St.  Mary  Magdalene,  117. 
Church  of  Nativity,  IV. 

Cities  of  the  Plain,  136. 

Climate  of  Palestine,  9. 

Colors  of  landscape,  198. 

Constantine  the  Great,  27,  42,  79,  85. 
Cotton  Grotto,  104. 
Contradictoriness  of  Palestine,  191. 
Courtesy,  167,  171. 

Creed,  Church  of,  119. 

Crimean  War,  45. 

Cross,  Finding  of,  80. 

Relics  of,  86. 

Crusades  and  Crusaders,  31,  44,  53, 
59,  68,  72,  84,  86,  113,  114,  126, 
160,  164,  181. 

Czar  of  Russia,  118. 

Damascus  Gate,  101. 

Dan,  124. 

David,  Castle  of,  20. 
f  Tomb  of,  101. 

Dead  Sea,  XIII. 

Dogs,  163. 

Ebal,  7,  149,  150.  " 

Elijah,  Monastery  of,  23. 

Endor,  161,  162. 

Engannim,  see  Jenin. 

Engedi,  139. 

Eshcol,  Valley  of,  27. 

Esdraelon,  Plain  of,  XV. 

Eusebius  of  Cremona,  Tomb  of,  47. 
Expense  of  brief  tour,  13. 

Fertility  of  Palestine,  8,  192. 

Fish  of  Galilee,  187. 

of  the  Jordan,  129. 

Flowers,  14,  193. 

Franks,  66. 

Galilee,  District,  XVII. 

Sea,  XVIII,  127. 

Gardens,  194. 

Gehenna,  108. 

George,  Saint,  14,  67,  126. 

Gerizim,  Mount,  150,  151,  152. 
Germans  in  Palestine,  49,  75,  121, 
176. 


[207] 


INDEX 


Gethsemane,  116,  119. 
el-Ghor,  128. 

Gihon,  Pool  of,  21. 

Gilboa,  Mount,  158,  159,  161.' 

Golden  Gate,  114. 

Golgotha,  see  Calvary. 

Gordon’s  Calvary,  88,  105. 

Greek  Catholic  Church,  34. 

Orthodox  Church,  34. 

Haifa,  189. 

HalhftI,  26. 

Haram  esh-Sherif,  65. 

Harosheth,  161. 

Hasbeya,  124. 

Hauran,  the,  192. . 

Hattln,  Battle,  181. 

Mountain,  179. 

Plain,  179,  181. 

Hebron,  V,  8. 

Helena,  St.,  42,  79,  85,  86,  87,  116.. 
117. 

Hermon,  Mount,  7,  123,  130,  185. 
Herod  the  Great,  26,  47,  56,  125,  133,* 
155. 

Hinnom,  Valley  of,  21,  100,  108. 
Hittites,  55. 

Holy  Fire,  IX. 

Holy  Sepulchre,  87,  105. 

Church  of,  VIII,  IX. 

House  of  the  Virgin,  177. 

Hfileh,  Plain,  126. 

Lake,  127. 

Isaac,  Tomb  of,  61. 

Jacob,  Tomb  of,  61. 

Jacob’s  Well,  152. 

Jaffa,  14,  192. 

Jaffa  Gate,  16,  92. 

James,  Grotto  of  St.,  112. 

Jenin,  143,  162. 

Jeremiah,  Grotto  of,  104. 

Jericho,  129. 

Jerome,  St.,  43,  47. 

Jerusalem,  VI-XI. 
el-Aksa,  67. 

Area  2  107 

Chur’ch’of  Holy  Sepulchre,  VIII,  JX. 
Damascus  Gate,  101. 

Environs,  II,  X. 

Golden  Gate,  114. 

Haram  esh-Sheiif,  65. 

Jaffa  Gate,  16. 

Jews,  VII. 

Lepers,  17. 

Mosque  of  Omar,  VI. 

Population,  2,  16. 

St.  Stephen’s  Gate,  113,  115. 


Streets,  102. 

Underground  Jerusalem  107. 
Wailing  Place,  76. 

Walls,  19,  111. 

Water  supply,  20,  26. 

Jezreel,  City,  161. 

Plain,  157. 

Valley,  162. 

Jews  of  Palestine,  VIII,  54,  57,  108, 
180. 

Joachim,  Tomb  of,  113. 

Jonah,  Tomb  of,  26. 

Jordan,  River  and  Valley,  XII,  134, 
137. 

Joseph,  Tomb  of,  60,  153. 

,  of  Arimathea,  Tomb  of,  81. 
of  Nazareth,  Tomb  of,  113. 

Ka'aba  of  Mecca,  70,  71. 
Kadesh-barnea,  28. 

KaVat  el-Burak,  25. 

Kerak,  118. 

Khans,  143. 

Kidron  Valley,  100,  110,  114. 

Kishon  River,  158,  189. 

Koran,  68,  69,  136. 

Ladder  of  Tyre,  189. 

Last  Supper,  Room  of,  101. 
Language  of  Palestine,  30. 

Latin  Kingdom  of  Jerusalem,  126, 
164. 

Lazarus,  Tomb  of,  119 
Lebanon,  197. 

Lepers  and  Leprosy,  17. 

Little  Hermon,  158,  159,  162. 

Lord’s  Prayer,  Church  of,  119. 

Loreta,  178. 

Machpelah,  Cave  of,  V.  ’ 

Mamre,  Oak  of,  27. 

Mary,  the  Virgin,  Tomb  of,  113. 
Masada,  140 
Megiddo,  City,  161. 
i  Plain,  157,  160. 

Merom,  Waters  of,  127. 

Melchizedek,  Tomb  of,  82. 

Moonlight  views,  198. 

Moreh,  Oak  of,  150. 

Moreh,  see  Little  Hermon. 

Moriah,  Mount,  150. 


Nablus,  see  Schechem. 
Nain,  161,  162. 

Nativity,  Church  of,  IV. 
Nazareth,  8,  174,  175. 
Nicodemus,  Tomb  of,  81. 
Notre  Dame  of  Paris,  86. 

[208] 


INDEX 


Olives,  Mount  of,  XI. 

Olive  trees,  195. 

Omar,  Mosque  of,  VI. 

Oranges,  192. 

Palestine: 

Altitudes,  8. 

Animals,  129,  163,  179. 

Area,  4. 

Beauty,  XIX. 

Boundaries,  3. 

Caves,  154. 

Climate,  9. 

Contradictoriness  of,  191. 

Dangers  of  travel,  12. 

Fertility  XIX. 

Fish,  129,  187. 

Healthfulness,  12. 

Manufactures,  27,  41,  55. 
Population,  33. 

Products,  8,  XIX. 

Races  and  religions.  III. 

Rivers,  123,  190. 

Tourist  season,  11. 

Paula,  43,  47. 

Perseus  and  Andromeda,  14,  67. 

Pisa,  110. 

Persons  incidentally  mentioned: 
Aaron,  151. 

Abd  el-Melek,  67. 

Abdul  Hamid  II,  38. 

Abimelech,  150. 

Abishua,  151. 

Abraham,  55,  70,  71,  150. 
Absalom,  53,  101. 

Ahab,  155,  161. 

Albert  Victor,  58. 

Andromeda,  114. 

Antony,  Marc,  160. 

Augustus  Caesar,  154,  155. 

Baldwin  of  Flanders,  44. 

Benjamin  of  Tudela,  63. 
Chateaubriand,  90. 

Chosroes  II,  86. 

Comnenos,  Manuel,  45. 

David,  22,  43  52,  54.  70,  101,  139. 
Deborah,  159. 

Dwight,  H.  O.,  59,  62. 

Edward  VII,  57,  90. 

Eieazar,  140. 

Elijah,  23,  70,  195. 

Elisha,  143,  162. 

Eusebius  of  Caesarea,  79,  90. 
Eustochium,  47. 

Ezekiel,  114. 

George  V,  58. 

Gideon,  159. 

Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  90. 

Gordon,  General,  88,  90,  105. 


Guy  of  Lusignan,  181. 

Hadrian,  69. 

Helena  of  Adiabene,  106. 
Holofernes,  160. 

Ibrahim  Pasha,  61. 

Isaac,  52,  70. 

Isaiah,  111,  154. 

Ish-bosheth,  54. 

Jacob,  24,  63,  70,  150. 

James,  St.,  112. 

Jehoshaphat,  139. 

Jehu,  161. 

Jeremiah,  104. 

Jeroboam,  125,  150. 

Jerome,  St.,  23,  90. 

Jezebel,  155,  161. 

Jonathan,  159. 

Joshua,  127,  187. 

Joseph  of  Arimathea,  82,  84. 

Joseph  of  Nazareth,  176,  177. 
Josiah,  160. 

Judas  Maccabeus,  22, 

Justinian,  67,  90. 

Justin  Martyr,  48. 

Khaled,  38. 

Lamartine,  90. 

Lazarus,  119. 

Leah,  61. 

Lot,  136. 

Louis,  St.,  86. 

Louis  VII,  90. 

Manasseh,  111. 

Mary  Magdalene,  81,  82,  117. 
Mary,  the  Virgin,  82,  85,  111,  177, 
178. 

Melchizedek,  70,  81. 

Merrill,  Selah,  59. 

Micah,  156. 

Mohammed,  30,  52,  67,  70,  71,  72j 
136. 

Montefiore,  Sir  Moses,  21. 

Moses,  29. 

Naboth,  161. 

Napoleon  Bonaparte,  160. 
Nicodemus,  84. 

Nureddin,  126,  165. 

Omar,  67,  86. 

Onophrius,  109. 

Origen,  48. 

Peter,  St.,  14,  126. 

Peter  the  Hermit,  90. 

Philip  the  Tetrarch,  125. 

Pompey,  160. 

Rehoboam,  150. 

Ruth,  42. 

Robert  of  Normandy,  90. 

Samson,  52. 

Sarah,  52. 

Saul,  139,  159. 


[209] 


INDEX 


Sheba,  the  Queen  of,  23. 
Shefket  Pasha,  38. 

Simon  the  Tanner,  14. 
Stanley,  Dean,  58,  120. 

Sisera,  159. 

Sultan  Suleiman,  19,  20. 
Tancred,  22. 

Terrill,  58. 

Thekla,  109. 

Tissot,  198. 

Titus,  104,  126,  140. 
Vespasian,  160. 

Wallace,  Lew,  16,  58,  90. 
William  II,  90,  121. 

Willibald,  St.,  90. 

Protestants,  35,  68,  105. 

Races,  III. 

Rachel’s  Tomb,  24. 

Rebecca,  Tomb  of,  61. 

Religions,  III. 

Rivers  of  Palestine,  123,  190. 
Roman  Catholics,  34,  85,  97. 
Russians,  93,  108,  117,  118,  176. 

Sacred  cities,  52. 

Safed,  179. 

Safety  of  travel,  12,  51. 

Sainte  Chapelle,  86. 

Salutations,  XVI. 

Saladin,  53,  160,  182. 

Samaria,  City,  8,  154,  196. 
Samaria,  District,  154,  158,  185. 
Samaritans,  151. 

Santa  Croce,  Rome,  87. 

Sarah,  Tomb  of,  61. 

Scales  of  Judgment,  66. 
Sebastijeh,  see  Samaria. 

Sharon,  Plain  of,  14,  192. 
Shechem,  149,  192. 

Shunem,  161,  162. 

Sidon,  164,  192. 

Siloam,  Pools  of,  110. 

Village,  110. 

Sinai,  Mount,  28. 

Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  136,  139. 
Solomon’s  Pools,  24. 

Quarries,  104. 

Stables,  72. 

Sultan’s  Pool  (Jer.),  20. 

(Hebron),  54. 

Summer  itinerary,  13. 

Sunset  views,  199. 

Syrian  characteristics,  31,  166. 

Taanach,  161. 

Tabor,  Mount,  6,  158-160,  162. 
Tell  el-Kddi,  124. 

Tell  el-Ka8sis,  195. 


Temple,  the  Jewish,  66,  70. 
Tersatto,  177. 

Tiberias,  City,  185. 

Tiberias,  Lake,  see  Galilee. 

Tombs  or  graves: — Absalom,  113. 
Adam,  52,  82. 

Anne,  113. 

David,  101. 

Eusebius  of  Cremona,  47. 
Eustochium,  47. 
in  Valley  of  Hinnom,  109. 
Jerome,  47. 

Joachim,  113. 

Jonah,  26. 

Joseph,  60,  153. 

Joseph  of  Arimathea,  81. 
Joseph  of  Nazareth,  113. 
in  Valley  of  Kidron,  112,  114. 
Lazarus,  119. 

Melchizedek,  82. 

Nicodemus,  81. 

Paula,  47. 

Rachel,  24. 
the  Virgin,  113. 

Zacharias,  112. 

Tombs  of  the  Kings,  106. 

Judges,  107. 

Patriarchs,  60. 

Prophets,  117. 

Tophet,  108. 

Tourist  season,  11,  198. 
Transfiguration,  163. 

Traveling  in  Palestine,  12,  142. 
Trees,  195. 

Tripoli,  City,  192. 

Turks,  30. 

Tyropceon  Valley,  112. 

Underground  Jerusalem,  107. 

Valleys  around  Jerusalem,  X. 
Vegetation,  variety  of,  8. 

Vildyets  of  Palestine,  3. 

View  from  Bethel,  91. 

Carmel,  188. 

Damascus  Gate,  101. 

Ebal,  7. 

of  Sea  of  Galilee,  184. 
in  central  Palestine,  140. 

Olivet,  118,  119. 

Tabor,  6. 

Vulgate,  Latin,  44. 

Wailing  Place, 
in  Hebron,  57. 
in  Jerusalem,  78. 

Wilderness  of  Judea,  72. 

Zacharias,  Tomb  of,  112. 

Zionism,  75. 

[210] 


